Someone Exactly Like Me by Debbie Cromack

2

Nicco

Ever since I shot to fame, what feels like overnight, about a year ago, my life has changed dramatically. I went from being a no-name actor to getting fired from my acting job to being a gardener for three years.

Now, I have ten million followers on Instagram, I’ve starred in a wildly successful erotic movie, and I’m making albums of my own music. My life is incredible and I’m grateful for how blessed I am.

One thing I’m learning about fame is that sometimes fans have a hard time differentiating a character from the person playing the character. Men seem to think I’m going to whip out a gun and kill them and women want me to kidnap them and have sex with them. It’s very strange. Whenever I’m interviewed or talk to fans, I do my best to distinguish myself as being separate from the character that skyrocketed my career.

Outsiders may look at my life with envy and think I have it all; success, fame, wealth — the world at my feet. But, there’s one thing missing: love.

My fame has brought me two kinds of women: either hot women who think they’re better than everyone else or star-crazed fans who cry and tell me they love me, even though they know nothing about me. The hot ones fulfill a basic sexual desire for a while before we part ways. I learned long ago not to hope for anything more when it comes to women and relationships. That’s the way it’s been. And I’m afraid that’s the way it will always be.

Though I’ve learned to accept this as my reality, a petite, fair-skinned, blue-eyed, blonde caught my attention from the moment she turned around and stumbled backwards.

Destiny’s awkwardness is quite charming. The fact that she’s pretty and doesn’t know it makes her even more attractive. When she came out in that white jumpsuit, I had a hard time focusing. Once she stopped fumbling with the fabric of her jumpsuit and let herself relax, she was unbelievably sexy.

Though our interaction was brief, something inside me made me want to know more about her. When Candi invited us to join them, I didn’t hesitate to accept.

Destiny

Candi and I get in Roy’s car while Giovanna, Nicco, and Shawn, another one of Candi’s crew, get into Nicco’s car. The rest of her crew pile into a third car.

Roy pulls up to the valet parking at Songbird Plaza and we get out and wait for the others to arrive. Once we’re gathered, we head into the club.

Candi and Nicco lead the way to the hostess stand. Several steps behind them, I see all the women and a few men near us peeling off Nicco’s clothes with their eyes. How strange that must feel for him and so violating.

Candi waves at me and we all fall in line behind the hostess who leads us down a black-marble hallway to several elevators. I’ve never been here before so I have no idea where we’re going. We get into the elevator and Candi loops her arm in mine, bending her knees alternately to the beat of the music and grinning from ear to ear.

As the elevator doors open, we’re greeted by a huge private suite. I can’t believe she did this for my birthday. It’s a little over the top for me and she knows I don’t need any pomp and circumstance. I just want my sushi, cupcakes, a good movie, and my best friend.

We exit the elevator and I scan the room. Squeezing her arm in mine, I whisper, “Candi, you didn’t have to do all this. It must be expensive to have a private suite with a bartender.”

“You’re worth it, but I didn’t.” She winks.

Then I hear the hostess. “Thank you so much, Mr. Mancini. We’re happy to have you here and accommodate your request. Let Barry know of anything you need and we’ll get it for you,” she says, gesturing to the bartender. “Please enjoy your evening.” She smiles politely at him and gets back into the elevator.

I’m so confused right now. Surely Nicco didn’t do this for my birthday. I guess this is just what he’s used to. But he didn’t know we were coming here until sometime during the time we were at Candi’s studio and he was in the photo shoot the whole time. Maybe because of who he is, they were able to get him a private suite? But this place looks like it would be booked solid.

“Come on.” Candi grabs my hand and leads me to the bar.

I stop trying to figure out how we’re in this amazing suite and follow her to the black marble-topped bar where we each sit on a black, buttery-soft, leather-covered stool. They sure do like their black marble. I must admit, it adds to the classy style of the entire place. With the silky fabric falling between my legs, I make sure I keep myself facing the bar.

“Good evening, ladies. I’m Barry,” he says as he grabs two cocktail napkins, stamped with a silver logo of a songbird inside a diamond shape, and places one in front of each of us. “I hear we have a birthday girl in the house tonight.” He smiles as he adjusts the black bow tie around the collar of his perfectly pressed tuxedo shirt.

“That we do,” Candi says as she stands up from her stool and hugs me. “And she’s right here.”

“Well, happy birthday.” He smiles broadly at me. “What can I get you both?”

“I’m thinking shots all around.” Candi raises her voice as she turns and waves everyone towards us.

Oh boy, here we go.

“Nine slippery nipples please, Barry,” she announces as everyone makes their way toward us. It’s my favorite shot.

Barry gets straight to work and we watch him line up the shot glasses. Candi holds onto the bar top and dances to the thumping music, swinging her pink hair to the beat.

Someone is hovering next to me. I look up and Nicco’s dark brown eyes meet mine. My heart lurches to a syncopated rhythm.

“Do you like it?” he asks, expressionless.

“Like what?”

“The suite.” He looks around the room then returns his gaze to me.

“Oh yes, it’s incredible.”

“Good, I’m glad you like it. Happy birthday,” he says, remaining stoic.

Wait, what? Now I have to ask.

“Nicco, did you get this suite for my birthday?” I cringe inside, unsure I should be asking because it might sound presumptive.

“Yes,” he says flatly as Barry lines up the shots in front of Candi.

She passes out the shots and spins my stool so I’m facing the group that is now gathered in a circle around us. I fumble around with the fabric of my jumpsuit, trying to cover my exposed legs but nothing’s working.

“Happy birthday to my best friend in the entire world,” she says as she raises her shot glass into the center of the circle and everyone follows suit. “Cheers!”

“Cheers!” everyone shouts in unison and we toss back our shots.

Giovanna’s position in the circle is straight in front of me and I catch her send a fake smile with a sort of side-nod in my direction. I don’t know if it’s meant for me or Nicco.

“Okay, what can I get everyone to drink tonight?” Barry asks as we start putting our empty shot glasses on the bar.

I spin myself back toward the bar and Candi orders us s’mores martinis.

Nicco waits until everyone has ordered. When Barry makes eye contact with him, he smiles. “Do you have a Macallan whiskey on hand?”

Barry gives him a discerning nod. “We do, sir. Coming right up.”

The buzz of chatter from the group grows and I look up at Nicco.

“Nicco, I don’t know what to say. Thank you so much. You really didn’t have to do this.”

“I know.” That’s it. That’s all he says.

“While Barry gets our drinks, let’s get a group shot,” Candi says, walking over to a tufted dark red leather sofa, in a grouping of four that are arranged in an open square against a wall covered in a black-on-black damask print.

Nicco sits at one end of the sofa and Candi ushers me in next to him then sits on the other side of me followed by two more people. Giovanna plants herself on the arm of the sofa, next to Nicco. I struggle with the damn jumpsuit fabric again and Nicco grabs my hand.

“It’s useless. Leave it.” The man’s expressionless face is infuriating. Because of his reputation, I keep thinking he has sex-on-the-brain, but I might be entirely wrong. Maybe he’s trying to help me feel less uncomfortable. I don’t get it.

“Nope, hold on. There’s too many of us. We need to squeeze in. Lily, you sit on Shawn’s lap.” She waves in their direction. “And Fiona, you sit on the arm like Gigi’s doing.” She looks to either side of her. “Almost. Des, you’re in Nicco’s lap.”

Before I can object, his large hands are around my waist, pulling me onto his lap. My stomach quivers. Giovanna’s now looming above me, my stomach winds tighter. With Nicco’s arm around my waist, his hand naturally falls to the top of my bare thigh, sending warmth through my body. His other arm is around Candi’s shoulders.

Roy stands in front of us, ready to take our picture with his cell phone.

“Wait. Roy, I want you in the picture too. Hey, Barry,” Candi calls out. “Can you come take our picture quickly?”

All I can think about is Nicco’s hand on my thigh and I want this picture taken and over. I’m sure he’s very used to touching women’s bare thighs so it doesn’t faze him in the least, but this woman’s thighs aren’t used to being touched and certainly not by the extremely hot Niccolo Mancini.

Barry comes out from behind the bar and takes Roy’s phone as Roy sits on the floor in the middle of the group.

“Okay. 1, 2, 3.” Barry snaps several pictures.

“Stay where you are,” Roy instructs us as he gets up and takes his phone to check the pictures.

Hurry, before he feels my heart beating wildly against his chest.

Roy swipes through the pictures. “Okay, all good. Thanks man.”

“You bet. Drinks coming right up. Also, let me know if you want something to eat. I can have your food brought here.” Barry goes back behind the bar and continues making our drinks.

We unravel from the sofa and stand up, dispersing back to the bar.

“What did you order, Nicco?” Giovanna asks through her perfectly pouty lips.

“You know what I ordered Gigi.”

“I know.” She bats her thick, feathery-long lashes at him. “I know everything about you because we’ve been in love since we were little.” Her voice is now an octave higher and she’s pursed her lips into the shape of a kiss. There’s no hesitation in marking her territory.

“Gigi, go mingle.” Unphased by her flirtatiousness, he sends her away.

She sulks and walks away, flipping her long, shiny brunette hair and rocking her hips from side to side. I have no idea what their relationship is at this point, but there’s definitely some kind of long-term connection between them.

Barry starts setting our drinks on the bar top. While everyone takes their drinks and heads to the opening overlooking the dance floor, Candi and I sit together at the bar.

“I know this is more my scene than yours, but maybe you can let loose a little. Will you dance with me? You know you love dancing with me.” She gives me her little-girl smile because she knows she’s right. While the club scene isn’t my thing, I do love to dance, especially with her. “Besides, you look hot so let’s not waste this sizzling outfit you’ve got on.” She raises her glass and takes a sip.

“I feel very out of place.” I look down at my drink while a lump grows in my throat and tears swell in my eyes.

She puts her hand on my leg and rubs gently. “Hey, hey, what’s going on?”

Thankful it’s just her and I at the bar, I confess. “I don’t know. I guess I just thought I’d be in a different place in life by the time I turned thirty, you know?” I hold back the tears that sting behind my eyes because I don’t want to start blubbering.

“Oh, honey.” She takes my hand in hers and tugs a little, making me look at her. “Des, where you are is temporary. You’re just in a little slump right now. You told me you had a good writing sesh back at my studio. Who knows, maybe that photo shoot was the spark of inspiration you’ve been waiting for.”

“Maybe.” I sip my martini, recalling how hot and bothered I was with Nicco’s hands on me and then being in his arms.

“And, I’m sorry to say it, but you really need to let go of Henry. You don’t like him and whatever it is you two are doing isn’t going anywhere.” She takes a longer sip.

Oh, Henry. He’s not my boyfriend, but we go to dinner every now and then. I’m pretty sure he wants more, but there’s just no spark. Candi thinks he’s a dud and she’s not wrong.

“I know.” I sigh. “I know. I guess I just feel bad. He really is a nice guy. So he’s a little boring and I’m not at all attracted to him. But, it’s nice to have someone to go to dinner with every now and then.” I lick a little of the chocolate syrup and graham cracker crumbs off the rim of my glass and take another sip.

“It’s time to let him go and open yourself up to your soul mate finding you.”

The second she lays it out there is the second I wonder if my soul mate is out there or if he even exists. Is there really a soul mate for every person? I always believed there was, especially watching my parents and how in love they still are. Recently, I’ve started to doubt it. I want to believe my soul mate is out there, somewhere. But I just don’t know anymore.

“This is going to be an amazing year for you. I can feel it.” Excitement rises in her voice as she takes a big swig of her martini.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Absolutely.” She smiles so big I can’t help but smile back. “Come on, drink up. We have dancing to do.” She downs the last of her drink.

“Then dance we shall,” I announce, then lick the remaining chocolate syrup and graham cracker crumbs off the rim of my glass and down the rest of my martini.

The group is huddled at the opening that overlooks the dance floor below us. They’re dancing and drinking as they watch the crowd. Nicco’s standing off to the side, a bystander, taking it all in. He’s barely had any of his drink.

Holding my hand, Candi leads me into the group and we dance together to the thumping of the loud music. Sexual energy permeates the air above the sea of dancing bodies below us. The slippery nipple shot and martini kick in and Candi and I dirty-dance, like we used to back in the day. Every now and then, I catch Nicco watching us. I can’t blame him. Candi’s an amazing dancer and her magnetism and voluptuous body draw thirsty gazes from anyone near her.

After several songs of bumping and grinding, most of us head back to the bar for refills. Plates of fancy-looking appetizers scatter the bar top and we nibble on the delicious food. Barry serves up our drinks and everyone heads back to the opening to dance.

“Aren’t you coming?” Candi asks, popping what looks like a caviar-topped scallop in her mouth.

“Yeah, I’ll be right there. I’m going to rest a bit first. I’m getting older you know.” I wink and smile.

“Okay, hurry up though. If you’re not there soon, I’m coming to get you.” She extends her arm toward me as she dance-walks away, pointing at me.

I raise my martini as if to say, “Okay.” Sliding into the barstool, I’ve given up trying to make the fabric cover my legs and cross them. Turning toward the group, I sip my drink and watch them dance, bobbing my head to the beat.

Drink in his hand, Nicco starts walking toward me. There’s that slow-motion time-warp thing again. The alcohol must be hitting me harder than I thought. Dear God, this man is hot. I take another sip of my martini.

As he walks toward me, he shifts his gaze from me to the group and then back to me. Once he reaches me, he slides into the barstool next to mine. The stale smell of smoke radiates off him and into my nose. Once again, I hold back my grimace from the foul smell.

“No more dancing?” he asks, setting his drink on top of the bar.

“I’m just taking a break.” I consider getting up and joining the others, but don’t want to be rude. I’m hungry so I spoon some tuna tartar onto a plate and scoop it up with a toastette, hoping to get the bite into my mouth and not drop it in my lap.

“So, tell me, Destiny, what do you do for work?” He lifts the tumbler to his lips and sips his whiskey then looks at me.

I turn my stool to face the bar and conceal my exposed legs. Wishing my body didn’t react so strongly to him, I clench my thighs together. “I’m a romance author.” Taking a drink of my martini, I try to breathe normally.

He nods, looking down into his drink. “What kind of romance do you write?”

“Not the kind you make movies about.” Oh, how I wish the alcohol hadn’t destroyed my ability to filter my thoughts before words fly out of my mouth.

He puts his glass on the bar and turns his stool toward me with a sexy grin on his face. “You’ve seen my work then, yes?”

Oh God.He studies my face. I hope it doesn’t look as red as it feels.

I clear my throat, trying to buy time for my brain to think straight. “Um, yes. It was suggested to me.”

“And what did you think?”

“Great work. Nicely done.” I sound like a bumbling fool. “What I write isn’t quite so — graphic.”

A laugh bursts out of him that he tempers. “So, what are your stories like?”

“Well, I do have some steamy scenes.” I can’t look at him as I say it. “But I also make sure to build the relationship between my characters. There’s a lot of heart and soul mate connection.”

“You believe in soul mates?”

“Well, I write about them.”

He shoots me a cunning smile. “But do you believe in them?”

“Maybe I live in a fantasy world, but I like to think there’s someone specific out there for each of us.” I clench my teeth, starting to feel like I have to defend my work and my beliefs, even though I’m starting to doubt them myself. I change the subject. “You don’t have to babysit me, you know. Giovanna’s been shooting daggers at me all night. Maybe you should go be with her.” Glancing over at Giovanna, I catch another piercing stare.

“You don’t want to talk to me?”

I almost thought I detected the smallest hint of hurt as he asked the question.

“No, it’s not that. It’s just…” I stammer. “She doesn’t seem too happy that you’re talking to me.”

“I’ll decide who I spend my time with and who I talk to. And I’m not the least bit interested in Gigi,” he deadpans. “I am enjoying your company however.” He leans in, ever so slightly, tilts his head down, and shifts his gaze quickly to my mouth then back up to my eyes. The air around us is still and somehow quiet in spite of the thumping music.

“Oh. I thought you were…together.” Especially after she basically peed around you in a circle earlier.

“Gigi?” He uprights himself, glances at her, and looks back at me. “No. Never. Gigi’s been chasing me since we were kids. She’s like a little sister to me.”

“She doesn’t look at you like you’re a big brother.” I shake my head and raise an eyebrow. “Still, I’m sure there’s a ton of women here you’d rather spend your time with. You don’t need to talk to me because it’s my birthday. Besides, I’m not your type.” Mr. Playboy.

Never releasing my gaze, he asks, “No? So, what’s my type?”

I clasp together my clammy palms, wishing I could sink into the floor and slither away. I’ll answer his question then excuse myself and find Candi to let her know I’m leaving.

“Someone like Giovanna or even Candi. But Candi just physically, your personalities aren’t a good match.” What am I saying? Shut up and get out of here.

“Why them?” Crinkle-lines form between his brows. “What makes them my type?”

“They’re gorgeous and have ridiculously perfect bodies.”

“You don’t see yourself that way?”

“No, it’s not that I don’t see myself that way. I’m just not that way.”

“Is that why you’re hiding over here by yourself and you don’t want me to talk to you?”

Ouch. “That’s not true. I’m not hiding.” Now the truth comes out. “I’m just — not used to people being aware of me.” I finish my drink as though it will somehow erase what I just said.

“I’m aware of you.” He stares directly into my eyes and the room around us disappears. “I’m very aware of you.”

He releases my gaze and raises his hand toward Barry then points at my empty glass.

“Where do you get your inspiration from for your steamy scenes? I’m curious about how authors come up the scenes they write.”

“Well, it’s not from personal experience, I can tell you that.” My face, neck, and ears grow impossibly hot as the words that spilled out of my mouth register in my head. Terrified to look at him, I try to backpedal. “What I mean to say is that sometimes we have to use our imagination, you know, to fill in the blanks, so to speak.” My backpedaling is failing miserably.

He lets out a loud belly laugh that tempers into a broad smile as he looks at me.

Nothing like admitting to a confirmed sex-god that your sex life is pathetic. Ugh. Please, can the floor just open up and swallow me?

“So, if you have no personal experience, then how do you write it?” His smile is gone and he sounds genuinely curious.

I fumble with the fabric, trying to drape it across at least one leg, and failing. “Well, we research. We read books, and — and we watch movies. It’s research. And then we create the fantasy with words in our stories.” I’m a bumbling fool.

He rubs his index finger across his mustache. “So, you watch a movie, fantasize about someone in the movie, and then write out your fantasy?”

I think I’m going to pass out. “I’m not having sex with you.” Oh God, where are my filters?

Another bellowing laugh erupts from him. “Who said I want to have sex with you?”

“You do know you have a reputation for being a playboy, right? Always rotating through women?” I swirl my index finger in the air.

“You know you can’t believe everything you read, right?”

“True.” I’ll give him that. “Okay, convince me you’re not a total player.” Why did that sound like a dare?