Indecent (The Cage Sessions Book 1) (3 page)

His eyes sport some new lines. They look good
on him, though. Adds character. The boy on my wall poster is being
replaced by a man. Hotter now, actually.

His jaw is square and commanding. Thick white
boy lips but not pretty by any means. A hint of cruelty as he
smirks. I bet he was born smirking.

His eyes themselves are a deep blue. Deeper
than ever I imagined as he gets closer to me. Is that a hint of
attraction I see?

He nods.

Fuck, can he read my thoughts? No, he's just
nodding to something Jasmine is saying.

Shit.

Tall, black, and gorgeous Jasmine Ryder is
all legs, tits, and ass. Green eyes. Big thick beautiful lips,
bottom one pierced on the right.

There is something about her... an energy I
can't put my finger on. I don't know if it's her proximity to
Damien Cage, but I'm feeling a stirring toward her too. Must just
be the proximity, right?

I'm not usually attracted to girls. Well,
okay... I ate my friend Lexi's pussy one night after consuming
almost an entire bottle of tequila. But I'm perfectly straight. I'm
just getting some weird vibe from this Jasmine chick.

Useless Ativan isn't doing much to keep my
heart from beating out of my chest and my pussy from jumping out of
my panties as they reach the table.

I stand up.

As they stop, Damien Cage just looks into my
eyes. His smirk becomes a half-smile. Nobody says anything for a
few seconds.

"Welcome to my home," he says.

"Hi," I say, immediately hating the way I say
it. "I'm Annika Spenser from
MiamiImproper.com
."

"Hello Annika Spenser from
MiamiImproper.com
. It's a pleasure for you to meet me."

"And it's a... um... ha ha!... yes, actually
it is."

God, he's messing me up already!

"This is Jasmine, my public relations
manager," he says.

"Nice to meet you, Annika," says Jasmine in a
voice not completely female. And hands that are definitely not
female.

Oh my God. Jasmine is a... I don't know...
transsexual? transgendered? Not sure what or which. I look at her
legs through the tight dress. No sign of a cock. Although it could
be tucked. Or removed. But this is definitely a guy.

Or was.

Or is. What the fuck do I know?

I look back at Damien with his massive chest
and shoulders. I get a flash of the two of them wrapping themselves
around me.

I swallow.

"Sit, please," says Damien.

I sit. They sit. Damien refuses to break eye
contact with me.

"Would you like a drink?" he says.

"No," I say.

"I hope you don't mind if Jasmine sits in
with me. She sits in on everything I do. You know, to keep me in
line. I have a tendency to sometimes say things I shouldn't
say."

"A-ha."

A-ha? Really, Annika? That's the best you can
come up with? A-ha?

"So, Mr. Cage," I say. "We at
MiamiImproper.com
–"

"Call me Damien," he says.

"Okay, Damien," I say with a laugh, "thank
you for agreeing to this interview. We at
MiamiImproper.com
appreciate your time. And I'd just like to say I'm a huge fan."

"What's your favorite Eon Sphinx song?"

"
Tattered Angel."

He squints at me.

"What's your favorite non-Eon Sphinx song?"
he says.

"Oh, I don't know," I say, trying to sound
like there are no songs besides Eon Sphinx's. "
Far Away
by
Nickelback probably."

His eyes go wide and he leans forward.

"Why that song?" he says, his tone very
serious.

Did I just hit a nerve?

"Um, it's very powerful. Emotional. Do you
like it?"

He leans back and folds his arms, staring
intently at me.

"Yes," he says. "I like it a lot. Nickelback
is a good band. Friends of mine."

"Now, do you mind if I record this?" I
say.

"Not at all. I record everything myself."

He smiles at me.

Ooooooh.

I take out my Olympus voice recorder and
press Record. Then I reach into my purse and pull out my big
black-framed glasses. Fuck, I should have gone home, changed, and
put in contacts. I look down at my notepad.

"You should never take them off," Damien
says.

"I'm sorry?" I say.

"Your glasses. Fucking sexy. I bet you'd look
great in them with nothing else."

Oh my God, did he just say that?

"Damien," says Jasmine. "We're here to do an
interview. Focus please."

"Yes dear," he says.

I return to my notepad. On it is the list of
questions I threw together at my desk three hours ago.

But I can't see any of them. They've become
hieroglyphics that I can't decode.

Damien Fucking Cage just told me I'm hot. I
think I need an ambulance.

Shit, Steve! It would have been better to
send Dale on this assignment. He wouldn't be losing control like
this.

Just wing it, Annika!

"So," I say, clearing my throat, "when is the
next Eon Sphinx album coming out?"

"Eon Sphinx," he says with a snicker. "Eon
Sphinx. Oh God, we're... how shall I say this?... on a break."

Shit no. I don't like the sound of that. No
more Eon Sphinx?

The fan in me is heartbroken at these words.
But the reporter in me smells a scoop.

"That sounds ominous," I say. "Are you having
creative differences?"

He puts his head down with a smile, scratches
the back of his neck, then beams his baby blues up at me in a Lord
Byron underlook.

He can do that all day long.

"You
could
say that," he said.

"Damien," says Jasmine in a warning tone.

"Jaz, it's going to get out sometime. Why not
now?"

"Damien!"

He sits up and looks full at me.

"Eon Sphinx is broken up," he says.
"Finished. Dead. Okay? I'm sick of trying to pretend that
everything is fine. I need to be honest. Not just with myself but
with the world. Eon Sphinx is no more."

His eyes are full of pain. He folds his arms,
staring and frowning at something behind me.

I resist the urge to throw myself on his
near-naked body to comfort him.

"I'm sorry," says Jasmine as she stands up,
"this interview is over. Mr. Cage is not–"

"Not what?" he says, his voice full of
irritation. "Not feeling well? Not in a right frame of mind? Jaz,
I'm sick of lying. This interview is
not
over. Sit the fuck
back down."

Jasmine sits again.

I just keep looking at Damien Cage, his hands
folded together. He looks up at me.

"My mission is bigger than Eon Sphinx," he
says. "I have a higher calling. Eon Sphinx has gotten me where I
need to be to do what I was meant to do on this Earth."

I don't know what to say. I just keep looking
at him.

"My mission," he says, "is to help people.
Eon Sphinx's mission, on the other hand, is just to make money.
Which is great. Nothing against money. But I have enough now. More
than I ever need. It's time to give back. I just turned thirty and
I need to help the world."

"So," I say, "you want to become a
philanthropist?"

He shoots a devilish smile at me while
looking up at me. I think I might melt soon.

"Sort of," he says.

"Damien," says Jasmine. "You're going to ruin
yourself. Don't do this. Don't tell her. If this gets out, your
career is ruined."

"I don't give a fuck about my career anymore!
I sing songs and pose. That's all I do. What am I contributing to
the world? Nothing! Not to mention sitting there telling kids on TV
that they can become stars when I know they can't. It's not about
talent. It's about drive and hard work, but they don't want to
teach that on American TV. They'd rather sell the bullshit dream.
Sing a song and you'll get rich. Tell me, Annika, who won
America's Top Voice
last season?"

I know, but I can't think of it.

"Ummm..." I say, "The guy with the big mop
top. I can't think of his name."

"Nope," he says. "That was the previous
season. But while we're on the topic, do you know where
he
is now?"

I nod no.

"In rehab," he says. "Painkillers. Couldn't
take the pressure. Had to resort to drugs. Now, the winner this
season, who I helped to get there with my amazing judging skills,
is Lija Charry."

"Right," I say. "She's amazing."

"Yes, she's amazing. She's got the best voice
I think I've ever heard on any human being. But guess what? She
doesn't want it. She thinks she wants to be a pop star but she
doesn't have it in her. I looked into her eyes every day for
eighteen weeks and didn't see it. That drive. That passion. She's
going to go home and ride horses on her daddy's ranch. Marry the
ranch hand who's lusted after her for years and make babies. You
will never... and I mean
never
... hear from her again."

He turns and stares at the house. He squints,
like he's recalling something. Jasmine looks at me with a
he's-off-and-running-and-there's-no-stopping-him
look.

"Do you know how I got this house?" he
says.

Is this a trick question?

I think I know where he's going here, so I
pick the smart answer.

"Hard work," I say.

His eyes light up and look at me. A new bolt
of lightning shoots downward into my crotch. He's definitely going
to need to get this chair cleaned.

"Yes!" he says. "And that's what these kids
don't understand. I built Eon Sphinx by getting two lazy fucks up
out of bed every morning to play every fucking show I could get us
into when I was fifteen years old. Ace and Trent just wanted to
smoke weed and hang out, but I wanted to be famous. You know and I
know I'm not the best singer out there, but I
wanted
it. I
wanted it more than anything. And all I see around me now are kids
who are not being taught that if you want something you've got to
sacrifice for it. You can't just go on an audition, sing, and
expect doors are going to open up for you because you're talented.
Fuck
talent! It's not about talent. It's about hard work.
I'm tired of being a tool to help deceive kids like that. And
besides, there's more to life than selling songs. I think I've sold
enough."

I think this is the moment I truly fall in
love with Damien Cage.

"So what do you think of that, Annika Spenser
from
MiamiImproper.com
?" he says.

"Wow," I say. "Cool."

Shit, that speech made me a mound of goo.

Come on, Annika! Get it together! Ask
something smart!

"So," I say, "what is it you want to do
next?"

"Excuse me," says Jasmine. "Damien, I can't
let you do this. You're going to ruin everything."

"Jaz, go jerk off your big uncut cock," says
Damien.

"Fuck you, Damien."

Jasmine stands up, grabs her laptop, and
turns to me.

"My apologies, Annika," she says. "Pleasure
to meet you."

She storms off toward the house.

Oh God, I'm alone with Damien Cage!

I gulp.

"I love her," he says, "but she doesn't get
it. I want to make an impact on the world, not just sing
songs."

"I get it," I say. "You want to give back.
You want to inspire."

"Yes! I want to show people how it's really
done. Get them off their ass, away from the XBox and YouTube, and
stop complaining that the world isn't giving them enough. I want to
teach them how to go take it themselves! Without anyone else's
permission."

"Well, I, for one, love it."

Damien Cage stares at me. And when I say
stares at me, I mean he cuts a laser into my brain.

"Do you, Annika Spenser from
MiamiImproper.com
? Do you really? Or are you just saying
that to get a scoop?"

My brain goes into overdrive thinking of
something to prove to him I believe in him.

It finds something tucked away in a file in a
back cabinet where I shoved it years ago.

"My dad," I say. "He ran for local office.
Wanted to be mayor of Coral Gables. But he never wanted to work for
it. He thought his ideas were enough. He would give a speech and
then figure everybody was going to vote for him because he
'nailed it.
' But he lost because he wasn't willing to go to
the next venue and give the same speech again. Then get up early in
the morning and give the same speech again. Then give the same
speech twenty more times in twenty more places the rest of the day.
If he had, he would have been mayor. Instead, he lost."

Damien Cage continues to stare at me. God, I
can't believe I'm telling him this! He seems to really be
listening.

"So what happened to your dad?" says
Damien.

"He abandoned my mom and me," I say. "Built a
life of smoke and mirrors from afar. Convinced my mom he got rich
doing oil deals in Kuwait. She believes him. I don't."

"Do you still see him?"

"No. I told him off a couple years ago. In no
uncertain terms."

Don't know why, but tears start to form in my
eyes. I reach into my purse.

"You're hired," says Damien Cage.

"Hired?" I say.

"Yes, I want someone to write a book for me.
A book about life and winning. Part autobiography, part self-help.
And you're perfect for it."

Holy shit.

"Ummm..." I say.

"Don't answer now. Come to my party this
Friday night," he says.

Sweeter words were never spoken.

"Oh, I don't know," I say. "I've heard about
your parties. I know what goes on."

Damien Cage just smiles.

"You don't have to go to the private show,"
he says. "Although I'm putting you on the list. But I'd like to see
you at the main one."

Damien Cage's Friday night parties are
famously decadent. He converts the entire outdoor area into a
nightclub for the main party.