Great Exploitations (Crisis in Cali) Read Online Free Page B

most, or at least one of the most, attractive women Damien Wallace had ever seen—and the heads turning my way and lingering assured me that I’d achieved my goal. As an added perk, the extra-high heels helped me peek above most of the crowd to pinpoint Mr. Wallace’s location. On television, they didn’t seem so tall since they were all about the same height, but when you dropped a professional basketball player in a group of average people, they stood a solid foot above the rest. Even without his height, the cluster of girls decked out in similar fashion to me helped me zero in on his location.
    He was at the front of the stage, toward the center, and even though a fair share of head-turners surrounded him, Mr. Wallace seemed far more into the band and bobbing his head to the beat than who was around him and what they were offering up. After powering through the rest of the crowd and several unwanted advances, I made it to the edge of the Damien Wallace-groupie ring. Cutting through the crowd of concert goers had been relatively effortless, but as I moved to slide between the outer ring of girls, I received a stiff arm block.
    Like that outer ring of girls had a chance in the first place . . .
    Instead of attempting to shove through them a second time, I came at it from a different approach. All of them were fighting for his attention, so I’d ignore him and act as engrossed in the band still screaming shrill notes into their mics. Hopefully that approach would catch his eye.
    I placed myself right at the edge of the female ring six deep around him, angled toward the stage, and pretended to be as enraptured by the music as I wasn’t. From their clothing and hair, I would have placed the band in the emo rock category, but their sound was heavy metal. The expression “hot mess” came to mind, but if my Target thought this band was the very pinnacle of music, so did I while I was working the Errand.
    A whole song hadn’t gone by before I noticed someone move up beside me. Someone who towered over me. I allowed myself a small smile before casually glancing at him. Damien Wallace was so insanely tall it almost seemed unnatural. He teetered on the giant category, and his long arms and huge hands helped me understand why he had more than his fair share of groupies. A proper groupie couldn’t help but be morbidly curious to discover if the rest of Damien Wallace was just as super-sized.
    “You’re a big fan too?” he shouted above the music.
    When I looked up at him, I made it a point to not seem overly impressed or to let recognition appear in my expression. A guy like Damien Wallace would have to go to a third-world county to find a person who didn’t know him as a basketball god. I knew part of him thrived off of being known and noticed wherever he went, but I also knew he had to long for anonymity sometimes.
    “How could anyone hear this and not be a fan?” I waved at the stage, my eardrums about to bleed, and kept a straight face.
    “I couldn’t have said it better myself.” When Mr. Wallace’s gaze wandered from the stage to me, it swept so long up and down my body that I knew Mrs. Wallace would have to schedule her Contact sooner rather than later. “What’s your name?”
    “Olivia,” I answered, making sure I didn’t seem too eager, yet didn’t come across as totally closed off. “What’s yours?”
    His brows pulled together, like he was either appalled or insulted I wouldn’t know his name, but when a few more seconds ticked by, he grinned. “I’m Damien. Nice to meet you, Olivia.”
    He held out his hand, and when I took it, it swallowed mine past the wrist. I’d never worked a Target quite as imposing as Mr. Wallace, and I would have been lying if I didn’t admit to being somewhat intimidated.
    Another song passed, and while he didn’t say anything else, he stayed right beside me, earning me a fair amount of glares from the groupies clustered around us now. If his all-star status and