tagInterracial LoveLucky You Are

Lucky You Are


"So, any new lovers, boyfriends, or guys in general the listeners should know about?" Rosie Lopez asked.

Demi sat up and leaned into the microphone, laughing. It was a tired laugh. She was really tired of this same old question. "See, how did I know you were gonna ask me that?"

Rosie laughed too. "Sorry! I had to do it! Your fans wanna know. I mean you're a beautiful girl, can sing ya ass off, and you've had relationships every now and again but nothing very serious. So I'll ask again, any new boyfriends, lovers...?"

"Na, there ain't girl, but I promise you, I'm working on that!" Demi gave a half-ass laugh.

Rosie didn't seem to notice. Instead she smiled and then said, "Well girl, we support you all the way. We're gonna go into a commercial break. Be back in three minutes to hear Demi's new single called, 'Lucky you are'."

Demi took off the headphones as soon as they were off the air and walked out of the soundproof booth.

"Yo Andre!" Demi's husky personal assistant swiveled his baldhead in her direction. "Get a hold of Elijah! I've been trynna get him since forever and a day ago. Call him, text him, email him, send him a fucking message in a bottle. I don't care, just get him here!" Demi ordered.

Andre groaned and went to go do the task.

"Ms. Smith, we need you back in here!" A radio producer yelled from down the hallway. Demi gave a frustrated sigh before walking back into the booth.


Julian drew a final drag on his cigarette, threw it in a nearby ashtray and answered his phone.

"Yeah?" Julian asked.

"Jules," his father croaked.

"Shit, dad, you sound terrible." Julian began to pace around his apartment.

"Yeah, I got the-" he coughed violently, "I got the flu."

"Aww man. You need me to do anything?" Julian asked, more out of politeness than anything else. He genuinely loved his father, but doing favors for the man was the equivalent of trying to please the devil. You'll never be able to.

"Actually, I do need a favor," he rasped.

Julian winced. "Let me hear it." Before I say no, he added in his head.

"I need you to take my place as Demi's manager for a few of weeks. You can take my pay check."

Julian's heart stopped. He reached into his back pocket for another cigarette, lighting it, before answering.

"Oh hell no! I'm not going to manage that she-devil. And hell will freeze over before I do that for a few weeks." Julian immediately felt bad when he heard his dad cough and wretch violently again. "If you're trying to make me feel guilty, it's working," Julian joked.

His dad laughed weakly, "How'd you know? So will you do it or not?"

Julian gritted his teeth. "What am I supposed to do about work dad?"

Elijah De Luca huffed, "You and I both know that you can do your job outside of an office. You're a fucking CEO of a company for Christ-sakes!"

"You couldn't get anybody else to do this?" Julian asked, fishing.

"The people I trust the most to do the job are busy."

"Thanks. Nice to know I was the last option," Julian muttered.

"You asked," his father replied.

Julian sighed. He didn't know much about Demi, except that she was fucking hot and a total bitch. Even though his mind screamed say fuck no, he heard himself say, "Alright, dad. I'll do it."

"Great. Thanks my boy." He listened as his dad gave him numbers of important contacts and information on Demi's inner circle. Julian took another drag of the cigarette before stubbing it out with disinterest.

"Okay, old man. Get well soon. Tell mom I said to take extra care of you."

"She will," his dad laughed. Julian believed it.

It would always be a wonder to him how his parents managed to stay married after thirty years. Not too long after Julian hung up the phone, the stupid thing rung again.

"What?" he answered gruffly.

"Julian?" A stern voice asked.

"Yeah, who's this?"

"This is Andre, Demi's assistant. Elijah told me to make all calls to you."

"Yeah. What's up?"

"I need you over here at Beatz 107.5 radio station."

"Right now?"

"The fastest you can get here. Try fifteen minutes," the gruff voice rasped.

"Damn," Julian muttered, "Okay, be there in less than ten."

"Better be, it's your ass," Andre said lowly before hanging up.

Julian made a quick grab for his phone and keys before dashing out of his apartment and inside his BMW.

The drive took as long as he expected and he spent more time trying to find a parking spot. He walked a few blocks back west before he saw the red-bricked building in his view. He stepped inside and walked over to the receptionist.

"What floor is the radio station?"

The blonde looked up at him. "Only pre-approved guests and employees can go up there."

Julian did his best not to roll his eyes and turned on the charm. "What's your name?"

He licked his lips and smiled, the way he knew women liked.

She blushed, "Lisa."

"Pretty name. Mine is Julian-"

"Mr. De Luca, are you done flirting with the receptionist?" a melodic, yet cold voice asked, quite sarcastically.

He knew that voice. She- devil.

He swore, and turned around.


He's an angel, she thought. He was six feet even with unruly, curly black hair that flirted with his long eyelashes. He had dark blue eyes, the color of the night's sky. His nose was straight and strong and his lips curved like Cupid's bow. Her eyes traveled lower to his black leather jacket, the crisp white top that spread tight against his chiseled chest and abdomen, the dark blue jeans that covered thick, muscular thighs and black boots. She released a shaky breath as she felt a familiar tingle between her legs. "You're not Elijah," she said, even though that much was obvious.

"You're smart," he quipped, his blood red lips lifting up at the corners a little.

Demi narrowed her eyes.

"I assume you got the email he sent earlier this morning," he said in a deep, melodic voice. He chuckled slightly when she gave him a look that clearly said she didn't. "He's sick with the flu. So, much to my delight, " his voice dripped with sarcasm, "I'll be taking his place as your manager for the next three weeks or so."

"Three weeks? What the hell? I have interviews, talk shows-"

"And I'll be with you every step of the way."

"Listen smart- ass, I don't need your little jokes okay? Keep your comments to yourself."

He may be sexy, and good looking and all, but he needs to know who he's talking to, she thought. He nodded.

"Anything else boss?" He asked with a mocking smile.

"Yeah. Tell your father to get well soon and that I like him much better then his son," she smiled. "But to be serious, I need you to call The View, 106 & Park and The Mo'nique Show," Demi started walking towards the exit, outside, as she continued talking. Mr. De Luca was following closely behind. "Tell them all that I am on for Wednesday and Thursday. Oh and please specify that I am only there to promote my album not my love life."

Julian raised a dark brow but she plowed on. "If I hear any questions about boyfriends and lovers I promise I will flip my shit and pull a Chris Brown."


"Anything else?" Julian asked, remembering to bring a tape recorder or something with him next time. The woman had so many damn commands! He was supposed to be telling her what to do, where to go, what to say. Not the other way around. However, he wisely stayed quiet. His dad was counting on him. She continued talking.

He looked up and was pierced in the gaze of her greenish hazel eyes. He couldn't help but look at those lips. They were naturally pink and full, yet shiny from her carefully applied lip-gloss. He forced himself to look away from them, but helped himself to view more.

Her long eyelashes, fake or not, he could care less; they worked for her either way. Her small nose, high cheekbones...she definitely looked better in person than she did on TV and she looked fucking incredible on television. And her body... it was the epitome of curves in all the right places.

Visions of him spreading her out on his work desk swarmed his mind before he could stop himself.

He felt a stirring in his pants and swore silently. Focus.

"Hello? Did you get all of that or do I have to repeat myself?" Demi asked, becoming more and more impatient with his sudden silence.

"I think I've managed to remember it all, thanks for asking though," he said, reaching for another cigarette. Damn nicotine. Damn stress.

"Ugh, you smoke?" She asked, rather snootily, as if only people of poor class smoke, and flipped her blonde hair-which was probably a weave, but it went oddly well with her golden skin- over her shoulder.

Julian rolled his eyes, noting with humor that Andre had done the same as well. "Yeah, I usually pull one out when I'm stressed. And would you believe it, this is my third one today. One of which I started smoking when I first heard I had to manage you and the second when you started talking. Get the hint?"

Andre coughed.

Demi's pretty face turned dark as a storm cloud. "Don't worry, I'll be out of you hair as soon as you drop me off home."

Julian blew out smoke, which Demi dramatically swatted out of her face, before responding with, "What?"

"You have to take me home. Andre has other errands I need him to run. I want to give him as much time as he can get."

"Oh, how generous of you," Julian replied sarcastically.

"Look, just point me in the direction of your car so I can begin to make my way over there. I want to get out of here before the paparazzi shows up."

Julian pointed east and she stormed off, her five-inch heels click-clacking on the pavement. Julian took one last drag as he and Andre enjoyed the view of her firm, round ass as she walked away.

"Only reason why I stay," Andre joked, before walking in the opposite direction.

Julian shook his head and began to walk after her.

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