Debra Anastasia
USA Today Bestselling Author

CHAPTER 13

A FIRST DATE

 

She was about as ready for the media attention as Bambi was for his new legs.

 

After Milla got out of the hospital, she was followed like a superstar, and it was just infuriating. Her parents were in and out of her apartment with food and rented romantic comedies while she stayed put. Boyfriend spoiled her with lots of love, his butt always in her face. The paparazzi were a combination of fruit flies and cockroaches, except they could talk with their evil mouths.

 

Milla kept waiting for the big reveal, waiting to hear the amazing news that Gage Daxson was still alive, but there was nothing.

 

She couldn’t even wear his big, hairy man toe. It was too long for her winter shoes. For a while she slept with it like a teddy bear. Then she woke up at night and screamed when she saw it lying next to her mouth. Now, the toe stayed in the bottom drawer of her jewelry box. Her internet column had been picked up by two dozen newspapers.

 

Luckily she had a huge folder of past work to deal out, because she certainly didn’t feel like writing. She was too busy waiting and doing nothing.

 

She did hear from Gage Daxson’s manager. That had made her heart leap, but he acted like he didn’t know Gage was alive. He interrupted Milla anytime she started to ask questions, loudly. The manager had offered to deal with the news outlets and talk show hosts wanting to score her for an interview.

 

But Milla turned them all down. And the learned the reason she hadn’t witnessed any funeral coverage was because there hadn’t been one.

 

Entertainment Spectacular was the first to question the death. Next A blow hard blogger voiced his opinion, demanding Gage Daxson’s death certificate and autopsy results.

Eventually as another week passed, the public decided it was not even a question: Gage Daxson wasn’t dead, and it was their job to find him.

 

Milla selfishly just wanted her date. And then maybe the erection he’d once promised her. But she felt a tinge of sympathy when every social media had Gage photoshopped in a Where’s Waldo striped shirt on their page somewhere.

 

One morning as Milla practiced the exercises the physical therapist had shown her, her cell phone picked up the call she never answered. When she was done, she listened to the message.

 

A man’s voice filled the room.

 

“Hello, Milla Kierce, I’m sure you recognize my voice. I’m Andres, and you were due to visit my show, Late Night with Andres, when we met up with a slight inconvenience in the dressing room. I’ll have you know that my legal troubles are over, and my show will be recommencing. I’ve spoken with the network’s attorneys, and it turns out the contract you signed is still valid, and we need you to reschedule your appearance or you will be in breach. Please call my secretary, Peter, here at this number.”

 

Milla stood with her mouth hanging open as Andres hung up. “You pimply-assed, cock-dragging knuckle fart. How dare you? How dare you?” Milla threw things.

 

In response, the phone rang again, and she waited until the message notification popped up. Soon, Andres’ voice was again in the apartment. “I forgot to add, Ms. Kierce, that you have two days to make these arrangements. The month is almost up, and that’s the deadline—”

 

Milla cut off the message and called the number back.

 

She started speaking at once,  “I’m not coming back to your show for anything. I almost died there. You want a lawsuit? How about the one I’m going to file against you for letting a freaky-ass man in your building with a gun and a bomb?”

 

“Ms. Kierce, before you get indignant, you should know that I know Gage Daxson is alive and well. I know where he is, and I can set the whole world abuzz with his slanderous, deceiving ways. Actually, I have the somber broadcast outlined right in front of me. Here’s an excerpt: Gage Daxson faked his own death to get away from rumors that he was working with the gunman to attack poor Ms. Kierce.”

 

“That’s not true.” Milla spoke through her teeth.

 

“Which part? Coordinating with the gunman? The fact that he’s alive? If I decide to say that he’s embezzled money from thousands of charities, I can do that.” Andres’ voice never changed its lilting tone. “Anything I want to be true is, in fact, true, Ms. Kierce. But if you come on my show, I’ll focus on reliving your harrowing experience and leave Mr. Daxson to his hiding spot.”

 

Milla said nothing as she looked toward the ceiling. She hadn’t heard from Gage in weeks. It occurred to her that he could easily throw away her toe and order himself another. It didn’t seem likely, but she’d expected something from him. Anything from him. And he might be hiding for a reason. Maybe he needed more of a break from the media.

 

As if Andres could smell her indecision, he continued. “Lawsuits are expensive, Ms. Kierce. All those pending book contracts and newspaper deals? The minute you have lawsuits against you, those things dry up. So then I would have to tell my lawyers to go for your personal wealth and maybe that of your parents. My records say they’re paying off your college loans. So sweet of them. They have a cute little balance in their retirement fund. I’ll have that too. Think of all the things you could avoid by just appearing on the show. You were so excited before. Let’s harken back to that emotion.”

 

“I’ll be there for tomorrow’s show.” She hung up the phone and seethed.

 

* * *

When Milla went back into the studio for Late Night with Andres, she wasn’t alone. Officer Rocco Brun insisted on personally escorting her and waiting for the duration of her interview. Security led her to yet another dressing room, with an identical swag basket as her first visit. Fuckers. She felt like a big baby, but inside her pocket she had Gage’s little toe, and she held Rocco’s hand so tight it must have hurt. He didn’t complain.

 

“You look nice.” He winked at her.

 

“I want to throw up. Luckily, I haven’t been able to eat.” Milla jumped as a nearby door slammed shut.

 

He shook his head and sighed. “I have no clue why you would agree to come back to this place.”

 

“It’s complicated. I wonder if they’re taping us right now?” Milla looked at the ceiling.

 

“I’m pretty sure you can count on it. Let’s gesture with our middle fingers a lot.”

 

Rocco pointed all around with his. “You want a muffin? They look good.”

 

Milla tucked her hands between her knees to try and stop the shaking. “Uh, no.”

 

She wore jeans, a T-shirt, and a leather jacket zipped up. She also had on three pairs of underwear and two bras. If someone tried to strip her again, it would at least take them a while. A wave of nausea floated her stomach close to the back of her throat. They waited in silence. Neither wanted to give Andres any extra footage. Milla had already heard Rocco’s opinion about the justice system, and it wasn’t favorable. He was under the strong impression that Andres owned more than a few judges. All charges against him had been quickly dismissed. The clock’s tick was so loud it was freaking Milla’s already frazzled system. Finally a man entered. Rocco touched his gun.

 

“Whoa, whoa. Just the assistant. Ms. Kierce needs to be wired for her mic before she goes on. I’m Peter, just here to help.”

 

He held out the electronic equipment in his hands to prove his words. He took a step toward her. Milla shook her head. Rocco didn’t shy away from his gun.

 

“I have to?” Peter was confused. “How will they hear you?”

 

Milla shrugged and practiced giving him the middle finger.

 

Rocco snorted. Then he asked, “How about you get her a handheld? She doesn’t want to be pawed at by your crazy ass.”

 

Milla almost smiled at Rocco, thankful the guy was here.

 

Peter rolled his eyes. “Fine, but she’d better keep the mic where we can pick up the audio.”

 

Rocco put his hand on his lap. “Pretty sure she doesn’t give a shit about your production quality.”

 

“So no hair and makeup? The camera’s not going to like that at all.”

 

Milla turned her back on the assistant and hugged her middle. Peter left, tisking the whole way. She really didn’t intend on saying much. She didn’t trust Andres at all. The show was running live tonight, so it’s not like he could pause taping to redo anything. Milla thought this would work in her favor.

 

Peter returned and gave her a fake smile. “Well, time to get you to stage left, Ms. Kierce.”

 

Rocco followed on her other side, holding her elbow. She took some deep breaths, accompanied by loud exhales. She now regretted her layers of clothes, as she was melting and lightheaded already. While she waited for her introduction, she slipped Gage’s toe into her jeans pocket and handed Rocco her leather jacket. She knew her two bras made her boobs look huge.

 

Andres’s voice was piped through speakers, and she could see him on the flatscreen TV mounted on the wall.

 

“Okay, thank you all for showing up tonight!” The crowd went wild. “As promised, I have the interview no one else could get. She captured the nation’s attention when she was held hostage in a dressing room before a taping of a talk show. My talk show. I’m sure you all recall my brave, devoted newscasting. Truly, it was groundbreaking.” The crowd applauded. “So, it’s my pleasure to meet, with you, the curvaceous young woman that fought for her life that evening. Please welcome Milla Kierce.”

 

Andres stood and stepped toward stage left, holding his hand out with flourish.

 

Milla’s feet wouldn’t move.

 

Peter almost touched her with his urgent, “That’s you! Go, go, go!” But his hand was intercepted by Rocco, who growled.

 

Milla stepped forward. Andres smiled and opened his arms for a hug. She cringed at the instant applause and shouting the second she was in view of the audience. She forced herself to keep walking. She went right past Andres and sat down in the armchair next to his desk. He turned to the crowd. Milla could see him in the monitors.

 

He tossed up his hands and bellowed over the applause, “By all means, have a seat!”

 

After the crowd gave a nervous chuckle, everyone sat. Andres made his way back to his desk and tucked in. He pulled out a microphone and switched it on. Milla jumped as loud feedback squealed. She leaned away from Andres as he attempted to hand her the equipment.

 

“I’m sorry, did you not want this? I was told you requested it?”

 

Milla covered her mouth with a shaking hand. The audience was quiet as she regarded the microphone without touching it.

 

“You scared her, you asshole!” A man from the crowd heckled.

 

Milla squinted through the bright lights but she could only make out silhouettes.

 

She mouthed, Thank you. She took the microphone and held it like it might shock her.

 

Andres scowled at the audience. “This is a live show. Please, no profanity.” Milla watched as his old jaw tensed. “Now, may I call you Milla? Tell us about the moment this happened.” Andres waved his hand behind them both. The room dimmed and what had previously been a nighttime cityscape became her worst night. She glanced over her shoulder and watched as she and Gage prepared for the gunman to enter. She turned away and shook her head, the movement freeing her tears.

 

“Yeah, you can knock that the fuck off.” The heckler was even louder now, and he rushed the stage. Security was too slow, but Rocco wasn’t. He had the man neatly tackled with a gun to his head in no time. Milla dropped her microphone and the resulting end-over-end fall sounded like gunshots. People in the audience screamed. The lights in the studio came up. The security men flanked Andres. Milla just stayed sitting.

 

“Hey, Milla. It’s me. Again. Scaring the shit out of you. Sorry. Again.” Gage Daxson was trying to act normal, and Rocco’s muscles flexed with the effort of keeping him down.

 

Andres smiled so wide his dentures almost fell out. “Gage Daxson? You’re alive? On my show?” The man nearly did a jig. “You brute, let him up, let him up. Let him complete his resurrection.” Andres scurried around his desk and pushed at Rocco.

 

Rocco looked at Milla who nodded, eyes wide. This new information rippled through the crowd. Some clapped, some booed, some sobbed. Gage stood, clean shaven and dressed in his signature sloppy chic. He ignored them all and knelt in front of Milla.

 

She smiled a little, still shaken from the turn of events.

 

“I have your toe,” she blurted.

 

He reached for her hand. “I’m glad. I have yours. Sorry it took me so long. I had things to put in order before—”

 

Andres cleared his throat and picked up the mic, shoving it under Milla and Gage’s mouths. “Speak clearly. Are you proposing? How long did you plan on deceiving the world, Mr. Daxson?”

 

Milla turned toward Andres, distracted by his questions. Gage reached up gently and turned her face back toward him. “He’s not here. None of them are. I know they tricked you so you would have to come here, but my lawyers are even scarier than his, so you don’t have to stay.”

 

Milla nodded. She looked around the huge room and tried to take in all the bustling pieces. Cameras zoomed in, production assistants ran back and forth. She felt like she might faint, everything was blurring.

 

“Don’t let go, Milla. Hang on for a minute.” Gage patted her hand. She refocused on his mouth as he spoke. “Would you like to come with me? You don’t have to do this anymore.”

 

She nodded.

 

“Good. I’ve got one more thing to do.” He turned to Rocco. “Do you mind?”

 

The policeman smiled. “Be my guest. I was just turning around anyway.”

 

Gage nodded and swung quickly. Andres was caught off guard as Daxson punched him two quick times. As the old man recoiled and fell on top of his desk, Gage grabbed Milla’s hand and pulled. She staggered a bit, so he scooped her up and headed backstage. 

 

A loud chant from the crowd stopped him: “Kiss her! Kiss her! Kiss her!”

A spotlight outlined their shape. Rocco stood between the security guards and the couple, hand floating over his gun.

 

Gage looked at her mouth. “Do you mind?”

Milla bit her lip and shook her head. Instead of waiting, she pulled his lips to hers and indulged the crowd. The clapping, hooting, and wolf-whistling went on long after Gage exited stage left, carrying Milla.

 

* * *

 

Milla sipped champagne on a gorgeous private jet. Gage sat across from her, singing one of the songs he’d written in his head. The kiss on Andres’ stage had been the smartest thing to do, though they didn’t know it at the time. Gage had since given a long interview to a popular video host explaining how the intense scrutiny was stealing his joy. He detailed how he had completed the fake out and then regretted it. The kiss was the tide turner. A surly public easily romanticized Gage saving his girl from humiliation at Andres’ hand. The old man’s ratings plummeted so severely that even though the studio execs kept him on the air, really, no one was watching.

 

Instead of retiring a king of the media, Andres quietly returned his late night desk to the redheaded comedian who’d had it previously.

 

And with that, Gage took Milla on their first date.

 

“So this is Rite Marx’s island?” Milla pointed at the small tropical paradise the plane circled as the sun set.

 

“Yes, my fellow rock god is a big fan of privacy.” Gage moved to sit next to her and buckled his seatbelt. He finished her champagne while she buckled as well.

 

They held hands as the plane landed. Both wore sandals and had one little toe that looked wildly out of place: his tiny and feminine, hers huge with a bit of hair. Upon exiting the plane, Milla learned why Gage had taken so long returning from the dead.

 

Along with the interview, he arranged a first date that would put many weddings to shame.

Milla laughed at the carpet of red rose petals. “Seriously? How many roses died to make this happen?”

 

Gage winked. “No worries, they grow here, and these are recycled from bouquets. Rite hates waste.”

 

The beach was sterling white and dotted with tiki torches. Gage turned to her and dropped to one knee.

 

He held out her toe. “Milla bad ass Kierce? Will you go on a date with me?” His smile was large and goofy.

 

“Gage wild wig Daxson, I would love to.” She bent and freed his toe, and they exchanged digits. After they secured their fake phalanges to the proper feet, they stood and Gage pulled her to him. He tasted her mouth while the surf crashed noisily on the beach. The twilight was flavored with salt water and roses.

 

* * *

 

The week was luscious. The island’s staff was welcoming and discreet. There was no cell service or internet reception, so their days were filled with old-fashioned pleasures: making sand castles, listening to music, and dancing. Well, Gage tried to teach Milla a few simple ballroom moves, but she mostly laughed.

 

“How do you know how to do this?” Milla finally sat down on the outdoor dance floor, her long white skirt billowing out around her.

 

“I’m not telling you.” Gage put his hands in his pockets.

 

“Tell me. Come on. I promise to make fun of you.” She winked at him.

 

“Well, as long as you promise.” He sat down next to her.

 

“I do.” She batted her eyelashes.

 

“There were a few weeks there I almost agreed to do Dancing with the Singers.” He closed one eye and waited for her laughter. He was rewarded.

 

When she was able to talk again after her bout of giggles, she reached out to hold his hand. “That’s so cute. You would’ve won.” She meant it too.

 

A breeze forced the palm trees to rustle.

 

“I don’t want to go back. To all the stuff.” He flipped her hand over and ran a finger across the small lines there.

 

She sighed. “Me either. This place sort of stops time. I love it.”

 

Gage leaned forward and kissed her. He threaded his fingers in her hair until they both fidgeted. 

 

“So our first date has lasted…a while.” He stood and pulled her to her feet.

Neither wore their toe. The sand was irritating.

 

“It has.” She cuddled into his chest and took in the crystal blue water.

 

“Do you think we might spend the night in the same bed? Or is that too forward?” He tilted her face toward his.

 

“I like forward.” Milla touched his cheek.

 

Gage led her to a small cabin with a huge bed. There was more open space than walls. The ocean nearly touched the small patio out front. Wispy curtains fluttered in the breeze. He laid her back on the bed and proceeded to light various candles in hurricane lamps.

 

“Are we alone?” Milla looked skeptically at the lack of a door or windows to latch.

 

“We are. The staff knew I might get lucky tonight.” Gage crawled onto the bed.

 

“You cocky thing. You just assumed I'd hop on your solid sausage?” Milla propped herself up on her elbows.

 

“Yes, I totally did. Am I wrong?” Gage began kissing her, and Milla forgot what, exactly, she was fighting.

 

His lips were perfect. And anytime she was able to take her eyes away from him, she had paradise laid out before her. In the nearby forest a host of night animals sang their songs. The surf’s pounding was the perfect percussion, and Gage timed his thrusts with the beat here and there. They made love for hours, and when they were spent, Milla  fell asleep with her head on his chest. He hummed a song, one of many he would write for her in the years to come.

 

 

THE END