Command Performance (3 page)

She looked back at the article, forgetting her troubles in the shameful squalor of Mason’s sex life.
“This group of rich, sexually voracious men and women meet for regular ‘sextravaganzas’ at their sprawling, secluded Malibu mansions. Rather than hiring strippers or escorts, they pass around their own partners and have weekend-long orgies where nothing’s out of bounds. When they aren’t swapping and partying behind closed doors, they’re congregating at a super secret BDSM club where whips, chains—and worse!—come out in abundance, claims a source close to the group.”

Miri wondered who this “source” was. A disgruntled ex-girlfriend? A competing actor? An angry partner of one of the participants?

And what the heck did the source mean by “and worse!” Miri didn’t want to contemplate it in public but she’d been thinking it over the last few days while she lay in bed trying to fall asleep. She pictured Mason shirtless, leather gear clinging to his ripped muscles, a riding crop dangling from his hand.
Oh my God.

The article continued in a scandalized and condemning tone, but Miri was far from scandalized. To tell the truth, Mason seemed unbearably sexy to her now—and she’d actually had the opportunity to get naked with him. Well, almost naked. He’d squeezed her breasts and ripped off her panties, and even though she’d had a privacy patch taped over her lady parts, she’d felt him during that one take.

What must it be like to have all that money and throw bacchanalian sex romps whenever you felt like it? It was so far removed from her world.

“Miri, Grammy’s done. What do you think? Doesn’t she look beautiful?”

Debbie turned the chair and at first Grammy’s eyes didn’t even fix on her. She looked, as usual, confused. Miri stood and walked closer to get her attention.

“Oh, my! Look at you. It does look nice, Debbie. Thank you.” She reached to touch one of her grandmother’s platinum curls but the elderly woman frowned and pushed her hand away. She tired easily, and when she tired she got much more difficult to manage. “Well, I’d better get her back.”

She paid Debbie, and the kind stylist offered to help her take Grammy to the car. There was a time Miri would have waved her off, but now she was grateful for any assistance. Before the dementia, Miri would have told Grammy about meeting Mason Cooke. She would have confessed how attractive she found him, and her grandma would have teased her about it. Miri might even have told her about the sex scandal. Grammy was cool like that, accepting and open minded. Now, instead, Miri tried to follow the unmanageable strings of her conversation as they drove back to Willow Oaks Manor, her nursing home.

“The red hearts were sideways. And it... And I... Four of those please.”

“Four of what, Grammy?”

Her grandmother looked over at her from the passenger seat like she didn’t know who she was with. Miri smiled to put her at ease, but Grammy turned her head away and didn’t talk any more.

Back at Willow Oaks, Grammy tried to walk away from the home, which she often did when she got agitated, and Miri had to run for help. That’s why they’d moved her grandma to a locked floor, which was almost twice as expensive as a regular one.

The facility director urged Miri to let the staff handle the situation. She watched them corral her grandma carefully. She looked so frail and confused. Miri’s throat felt tight but she wouldn’t cry. She’d already cried over this so many times.

“Miss Durand?” The salt-and-pepper haired director, Mr. Schimmel, cornered her near the facility’s offices. “Do you have a moment?”

Miri followed him with a sense of foreboding. She knew the bill was paid up, thanks to the work she’d done on
Revelation
. When they’d chosen this place, they’d still had a lot of savings from her early career work, and no reason to believe it would ever dry up. But it was drying up at an alarming rate as the costs of Grammy’s care grew steeper. Willow Oaks Manor wasn’t the most luxurious nursing home in the area, but it was among the best.

Miri tried not to think about money as they passed plump, velvet-upholstered antique settees and ornate vases as tall as her head. Mr. Schimmel seated her in his office and offered her coffee, which she refused. He sighed and leaned forward, rearranging some papers on his desk before looking back at her.

“I trust you enjoyed your outing today?”

“Yes. I think she did.” Miri smiled wryly. “These days, it’s getting harder to tell if she enjoys something or not. But I want her to have a life.”

“Of course. Quality of life is of utmost concern here. But your grandmother’s faculties are not what they once were, and quality of life takes on a new meaning as people age.”

Miri looked down at her hands. “She’s getting worse. I know.”

Mr. Schimmel sighed and rested his chin on steepled fingers. “Miss Durand, you are so dedicated to your grandmother. I admire you for your attention to her, but her doctor believes it would be best if you didn’t take her outside the facility anymore. With her advancing condition, it’s not safe. Not unless you take an assistant with you, but that’s not covered under your grandmother’s care plan.”

She looked at the older man. He was faultlessly polite, but she hated him. “Grammy likes to have her hair done.”

“We have a lady who comes and does the residents’ hair in the comfort of their rooms for a nominal charge.”

“Grammy knows the stylist at this place. She trusts her. She likes to be pampered once in a while. Don’t we all?” Miri smiled, but he didn’t smile back. His point was clear. Any pampering that required outside trips was going to cost extra from now on.

“She’s reaching the point where she won’t be aware of whether she’s out or in. Whether she’s at a premier spa or a barber shop,” Mr. Schimmel said. “She doesn’t remember from hour to hour what she did the hour before. You must understand, Miss Durand, that your grandmother’s safety is our primary concern.”

“You just said quality of life was of utmost concern.”

“Safety comes first, then quality of life. Of course, you are welcome to visit her here at any time. During any of the visiting hours. She enjoys spending time with you.”

He said the lie without the least stutter or hesitation. The truth was, Miri’s grandmother didn’t recognize her half the time, and when she did, they could barely carry on a conversation.

It was so depressing, all of it. The money, the unctuous look on Mr. Schimmel’s face. Grammy was definitely getting worse.

*** *** ***

Three weeks out from the scandal breaking, the media still dogged Mason’s every movement. He managed to sneak over to Kai’s house for a New Year’s Eve dinner with his closest friends—or as the media called them, his “orgy partners.” It wasn’t as bad as the New Years two years earlier when he and Jessamine had had a screaming fight and decided to divorce in front of everyone. It wasn’t that bad, but almost.

Shane had been right. Jeremy Gray had a very conservative, non-movie-star wife, Nell, and a sweet little daughter to redeem him in the eyes of the world. The “Indian digital tech magnate” mentioned in the stories was Kai Chandler, Satya’s brother, but he wasn’t a celebrity, so no one gave a fuck or bothered him and his wife Constance. Jessamine was out of the country, her lips firmly sealed, undoubtedly to damn Mason more.

Somehow, they all got a pass, and the media vultures clustered on him.

Mason was the first to admit it was a damn juicy story. Sordid parties, kinky fetishism, group sex. Jessamine as the vulnerable wife fleeing her marriage to a perverted sex addict masquerading as a good guy. The funny thing was, he hadn’t even given in to his BDSM impulses until recently, while Jeremy and Kai had been in the lifestyle for years.

“It’s not fair,” Nell said over dinner. “Jessamine was the one who broke up your marriage, cheating on you with everyone she possibly could.”

Mason shook his head. “No, I cheated. Remember?” He glanced at Constance. Water under the bridge. Before she was Kai’s wife, Constance had been his friend’s
odalisque
, or sexual servant, and Kai had shared her with Mason behind Jessamine’s back. “All Jess’s extra-marital activity was sanctioned by me, and I kept secrets from her, so...”

“You’re an idiot.” Satya had to get in that dig.

“The point is,” Mason said, ignoring Satya, “Jess has no reason to come to my defense. I wronged her.”

“But she wronged you first,” signed Constance. “She treated you terribly.”

Kai translated her sign language and agreed. “Still, I don’t think it was Jess who outed us.”

“She never would have. Never.” Jeremy shook his head. “Even if she wanted to get at Mason, she wouldn’t have hung me out to dry. It must have been Veronica, Kai’s bitch of a money-grubbing ex-wife. No offense,” Jeremy said to Kai in an aside.

Kai’s face hardened. “It would make sense. The only way Veronica knows how to make money is by fucking people, literally and figuratively.” He pointed at Mason. “You should sue her for breach of privacy.”

“Oh, good idea,” Satya drawled. “A nice long trial to ensure all the details of Mason’s wicked exploits stay in the public spotlight for the longest time possible.”

Jeremy held up a hand to head off a sibling squabble. “It seems to me the smartest thing to do is figure out some way to combat Mason’s image problems so he can move on from this.”

Nell frowned. “You never hear anything in the press about all the money Mason donates to charity, about all the humanitarian work he does with Satya.”

“Well, I don’t actually do it,” said Mason, flicking a look at Sats. “I just finance it.”

“There’s your answer,” said Kai. “Go over to Africa or the Middle East and be photographed helping my sister. Voila. Mason Cooke is a good guy again.”

“That won’t work.” Jeremy gestured between Satya and Kai. “Sats is your sister, and you’re involved in the scandal, so it would just bring up some ‘all in the family’ speculation, which would make things even worse.”

Everyone at the table shifted uneasily while Satya made quiet retching noises.

“Anyway,” Jeremy added, “charity work isn’t sexy and sensational enough to keep the public’s interest for long.”

Nell’s eyes sparked, her redheaded temper flaring to life. “I can’t stand it, Mace. You being painted as this loathsome, dangerous person, when you’re the least nasty of us all.”

“Hey!” Kai and Jeremy protested. Nell shrugged with a half-apologetic look.

“It’s true,” Constance signed. “Mason doesn’t even go to the club. And you haven’t been in a kink relationship in...how long?”

A silence fell over the table as all their gazes landed on him.

“Constance is right,” Kai said slowly. “You haven’t been in any relationships, unless you’ve been holding out on us. What the hell have you been doing with yourself?”

Don’t look at Satya. Don’t look at Satya.

“Maybe he’s got an odalisque at the house he’s not telling you all about,” Satya said lightly, winking at Constance.

Thanks, Satya.
“I don’t have an odalisque,” he announced to the group, since a couple of them looked suspicious.

“Maybe you should get one,” Constance signed.

Jeremy rubbed his hands together after Kai translated. “I’d be happy to fly over to Paris with you and help you pick one out.”

Nell smacked him on the shoulder and turned to Mason. “Don’t listen to these people. They’re crazy. You don’t need a sex slave. What you need is a good girl to help you reform your image.”

That set the whole table laughing. “Where the hell is Mason going to find a good girl at this point?” Kai snorted. “Even the bad girls are afraid of him.”

But an idea lit up in Mason’s mind. He looked at Nell. “Do you think that would work?”

She shrugged. “At this point it couldn’t hurt.”

A good girl. A nice girl. Mason had slept with all the women in the room, including Satya. He wasn’t a nice guy, despite what his friends might say. He was into pain, kinky sex, partner swapping—and apparently simulated rape. What the hell would he do with a nice girl?

“I just wonder,” said Mason slowly. “I...”

Mireille Durand.

He couldn’t get her name out of his mind.

“I worked with this actress a few weeks ago. I think she would qualify as a good girl. Do you guys know Mireille Durand?”

Jeremy looked surprised. “What were you in with Mireille Durand? Not
Revelation
?”

“Yeah, we had a few scenes together. One was pretty brutal. But she was really nice. Super nice.”

Constance grimaced and signed, “She might be too nice.”

Kai shook his head. “In this case, right now for Mason, there’s no such thing as too nice. We’re about to head into the awards season, and he’s got some films coming out this summer. That’s a lot of spotlight.” He turned to his friend. “Would she go out with you?”

Mason shrugged. “She’s a B-list former child actress trying to break into bigger films. I’m sure she would, if only for the publicity.”

“So,” said Jeremy, squaring his shoulders, “approach it like this. Tell her you’ll try to get her better film roles if she’ll help you sanitize your reputation.”

“No, no, no.” Nell shook her head. “You can’t approach her like that. Like you’re offering some impersonal business proposition.”

Satya guffawed and the others smiled behind their hands. Jeremy had once offered Nell a similar business proposition—to act as his submissive-for-hire.

“All of you shut up,” Nell said. “Our situation was completely different.”

“Yes, very different.” Jeremy gave his wife a salacious look. “For one, you weren’t by any stretch of the imagination a ‘nice girl’ when I met you.”

“Well, Mireille Durand is a nice girl,” Mason said. “It would just take a few dates. Some photos for the tabloids. I can trot her out to the awards shows, I guess.”

Constance waved her hands to get their attention and signed a rather long statement with a frown.

“She’s right,” Kai said. “How are you planning to break it off when you don’t need her anymore? I mean, assuming she’s not your perfect match.” He gave Mason a look. “And if she’s wholesome, I doubt she will be.”