Famous Most Wanted

'So do you want to tell me what it is I've done wrong?' Johnny asked as he and Taylor set the last of the shopping bags onto the kitchen table. Taylor still wouldn't meet his eyes. Johnny stared at her and she could feel it.

His gaze was almost hot and sticky on her face and made her very uncomfortable. This was a big contrast to his usual cool, nonchalant glance. An observation at best. He very rarely stared, and Taylor knew from agonizing experience that Johnny had an intense and unavoidable stare.

She lifted her eyes to his. Johnny was as stubborn as an ox. He wasn't going to let this go. Taylor folded her arms, a form of preservation and defensiveness.
There was a long few seconds of silence as Taylor simply held Johnny's eyes.

'I read that magazine,' she admitted. Why lie about that and then chastise Johnny himself about lying?
Johnny's eyes hardened and he rolled them.

'So much for that fucking bubble, eh?'

'The bubble doesn't apply to me,' Taylor corrected through a clenched jaw.

'Clearly it should seeing you've just upset the balance of the bubble and bloody well popped it.' Taylor's glared faltered at his quick observation. 'Go on then,' he sneered. 'Enlightened me. What did Grace say I've done?'

'What you've done, Johnny, is lied to me over something you needn’t have lied about.'

'And what's that, exactly?' he laughed, finding all this bitterly humorous.

'That you split up with your girlfriend,' she answered. Johnny's smile turned into a frown.

'Huh?'

'You and Grace never broke up. You love each other and she's worried about you desperately and here you are, telling me you're single and spending every waking moment trying to get into my bed, with me in it!' Johnny's eyes had lowered. Taylor though it was from shame and guilt. No. It was from thought and anger.

'Grace said that?' he asked in a quiet, oddly calm voice. Taylor nodded. Johnny looked away and shook his head. 'Of course,' he sighed. 'Of course you'd believe a total stranger and not me. Because it's easier for you to believe me to be some terrible cheating, uncaring bastard. You wont let yourself believe that I'm actually not as bad as you thought, so you believe the lies Grace is selling those magazines, for a pretty penny too I expect.' Johnny stepped closer to Taylor. 'Why is it so easy for you to believe the worst in me. Why do you want to so bad?' Taylor held her ground but as Johnny stepped closer and closer her confidence shrank smaller and smaller. 'When will you trust me, Tex?'

'When you prove yourself trustworthy,' she rasped, feeling an uncertain but undeniable feeling of betrayal. Why was she letting herself get attached to him? She knew the deal.
Professional. She couldn't allow these strange, twisted feelings to overwhelm her.
She took a deep breath, relaxed her tense shoulders and began to unpack the shopping bags like she hadn't squabbled with Johnny at all. Johnny shook his head and went upstairs.

Taylor filled the cupboards with the freshly bought food and denied herself the self pity that burrowed deep within her. She had no reason to feel sorry for herself. Johnny was an assignment and nothing more. Granted, she had gotten close to him these past few weeks and she had grown an almost liking towards the rocker, but she knew from the beginning that this was strictly professional. She couldn't afford to to have a conflict of interests with Johnny. They were just too different. They belonged to different worlds. He was the eccentric, alcoholic, womanising rock star and she was the grounded, level headed, professional police officer. They were worlds apart.

Taylor was brought from her trance as she heard the shower start. She blinked and shut the fridge door, which stood open in her hand as she stared into space. She shook her head and heaved a sigh. She knew she could deal with this. She just had to get her head back in the right place.

The power cut out suddenly and she heard Johnny's disgruntled cursing upstairs. Had the meter run out?
Just in case it wasn't the meter at all, Taylor felt around in the dark for her handbag and prised it open. She slipped out her handgun and listened for sounds of intrusion. Taylor held the gun, finger poised over the trigger, ready. She heard footsteps across the upstairs landing and then those footsteps down the stairs.

'Johnny?' called out Taylor cautiously.

'Is that the fucking meter?' She heard his voice closer than she'd expected. He was right in front of her now. 'Where are you?'

'I'm right here,' Taylor answered.

'Christ. Can't see a fucking thing,' he moaned. 'You gonna put money in, or what?'

'Shhh,' Taylor disregarded impatiently. They fell silent and she listened intently. Silence. Only silence. They were still alone together on the Welsh mountain side. Taylor tried to relax at that thought and lowered her gun.

'It was just the meter,' she said.

'Noooo,' Johnny drawled sarcastically. 'You think?'

'Well, help me get the lights on again then. You're the man, here.'

'I'm hurt by your sexism,' Johnny said through the darkness as they navigated their way to the electric meter in the corner of the kitchen. Taylor fumbled in her handbag for loose change and handed any she found to Johnny. She heard him put the coins into the meter before the lights flickered back to life. Taylor squinted against the sudden brightness as her eyes finally adjusted and took in the sight before her.
Oh, no, Taylor thought. He's wet. Why'd he have to be wet?

He would also have been naked had he not thought to tie a soft white towel around his waist. He was shiny with moisture and he had a tattoo on the left side of his well-toned chest of a red lipstick kiss. It literally looked like a woman had run up and kissed his chest, leaving her mark forever. Taylor tried not to look but her sudden shy, averted gaze seemed more obvious somehow. She decided her best option would be simply to look at his face and nowhere else.

Not the best option. Not the best option at all. Johnny was staring at Taylor with those intense green eyes and she found herself lost. He took a step forward and Taylor struggled to keep her eyes on his.

He reached out a hand and she didn't flinch away this time. With delicate fingers, Johnny swept the hair from Taylor's eyes. His eyes darted all over her face as if memorising it. He was taller than her and she wouldn't deny feeling just a little intimidated by the inches he had on her.
Johnny began to lean, whereas Taylor had nowhere to cower back to, being against the wall. She didn't like where this was going at all. Especially seeing he was practically naked. He'd bent face level with hers and Taylor wasn't having any of it.

She pushed the barrel of the gun into his bare chest and frowned disapprovingly at him. He rolled his eyes. He knew Taylor wouldn't shoot him. It was merely a warning to back off.

'Can't blame a guy for trying,' he smirked, winking at Taylor. Her anger melted away as Johnny walked to the stairs. 'I'll be in the shower again if you need me.' He paused and smirked over his shoulder. 'Unless you want to join me?' He raise his eyebrows suggestively and Taylor raise hers also, but more in a think again kind of way.

***

That evening, Johnny brought his guitar down and sat on the sofa, fire roaring, as he tuned it. Taylor had abandoned the puzzle for now and was making tea. She always teased him by giving him the black mug to 'match his hair'. She watched him a moment. His back was to her and he was leant over the guitar.

'You really love that thing, don't you?' She asked from the kitchen. She folded her arms and walked to the sofa while the kettle boiled. He nodded as he strummed lightly.

'Most important thing to me in the world, this guitar.' Taylor perched next to him on the sofa.

'What about your other's. I'm assuming you have others?' Johnny looked up at her and stopped strumming.

'I have many others, but this,' he looked down at it. 'This one's important to me.'

'Why?' Taylor wondered, scooping hair from her eyes. Johnny laid it flat on his lap as he stared down at it. It was in very good condition.

'Because . . . I bought this when I had nothing.' He surprised her again by answering honestly. She didn't know why Johnny found it easy to talk to her, but she was glad he did. 'I saved up for fucking ages to buy this thing. I didn't need it, but I wanted it. I wanted it so bad. Money is easy now. I could buy this same guitar ten times over with the loose change down my sofa. But back then, it was an accomplishment buying this. It was the longing.'

He looked up at her and held her eyes significantly. 'I'm fickle. I long for things I can't have.' He looked back down at the Gibson in his lap. 'This just reminds me of a time when I used to struggle, of when I was so fucked up I couldn't get a proper job, not that I wanted one. This guitar makes me realise how far I've come since I bought it and makes me grateful for how much easier my life is now.'

'So it's a good one, is it?' Taylor asked, nodding at his guitar. His eyes lifted.

'It's a Gibson,' Johnny said simply. That meant nothing to Taylor.

'Is that good?' she shrugged.

'In my opinion, it's the best money can buy. You're looking at two grands worth of wood.' Taylor's eyes widened.

'You spent two grand on a guitar?' She exclaimed. Johnny chuckled.

'That's what mum said. And back then I didn't have two grand to spend.'

'Jesus,' Taylor muttered, looking again at the Guitar. 'I don't want to sound ignorant, but what's the difference?' Johnny's mouth fell open.

'What's the difference?' He repeated. He pulled the guitar upright and strummed a C chord. 'Y'hear that?' he asked. 'That's the sound of two thousand pounds. You get what you pay for. You buy a cheap guitar and you're getting a cheap guitar and that's all it will ever be. When you buy a quality instrument, it lasts and it sounds amazing every time. It's clear and precise. Good quality strings. No tinniness. No fret buzz. Same with Fender. Got one of those too. A top brand of guitar, built to last. They all have different distinct sounds too. When you buy a guitar like this, you're making an investment. They only go up in price the older they get.'
Taylor shrugged.

'I know nothing about guitars.'

'Don't worry,' Johnny smirked. 'You will do.' He strummed again.

'Who are your influences then?' she asked, standing to make the tea. The kettle was now boiled.

'The Stones,' Johnny began. 'Bowie. Hendrix. Zeppelin. Iggy Pop.'

'You like Iggy?' Taylor asked, pouring milk into the mugs with a smile.

'How can I not? The guys a nutter. What a performer. He knew what it was all about.' Johnny began to strum out the intro to The Passenger and smiled over his shoulder at Taylor. She couldn't help but grin back. She loved that song.

'I am the passenger,' sang Johnny. 'And I ride and I ride.' Taylor stifled a giggle as she put the milk away. He was singing again. She liked to hear him sing. It was, after all, what he was famous for.

'You know it looks so good tonight.' She picked up the two mugs and walked to the sofa carefully. 'I am the passenger. I stay under glass.' Taylor set Johnny's mug down on the coffee table in front of them and, keeping her mug in her hands, sat down beside Johnny.

'Over the city ripped backsides, and everything looks good tonight.' Johnny smiled at Taylor as she prepared herself to join in.

'Singing, la la, la la, la la la la,' they sang together, smiles on both their faces. 'La la, la la, la la la la.' She wasn't sure why she felt so comfortable and natural, sitting there singing Iggy Pop with Johnny Carolina while a warm fire burned before them. But at that moment, singing 'La la, la la, la la la la,' Taylor never felt more at home.
The pair laughed and Johnny lost his place, messing the chords up.

'Ah,' he grinned. 'What bit was I on?' Taylor shook her head and laughed. Johnny smiled. He hadn't seen this side of Taylor. Until now he wasn't aware she was capable of laughter. And she seemed to actually be enjoying herself, and his company.

'What's your favourite song?' Johnny asked her then. Taylor took a sip from her tea and shrugged.

'Um. Purple Rain. I'm not really a Prince fan or anything but that song . . .' she shrugged. 'Just speaks to me, I guess.'

'And why wouldn't it? It's a classic. Ugh, and whatta solo.' Taylor nodded in agreement. Her smile slipped however as Johnny began to lightly play the beginning to Purple Rain. Could he play everything? Taylor swallowed the lump in her throat. She didn't think she could handle this. His singing already made her knees weak. He couldn't sing Purple Rain to her. He simply couldn't.

'I never meant to cause you any sorrow,' he sang gently, eyes lifting and capturing hers. 'I never meant to cause you any pain.' Taylor's grip on her mug tightened. 'I only wanted one time to see you laughing.' His eyes were still on hers. Her stomach felt queasy. 'I only wanted to see you laughing in the purple rain. Purple rain. Purple rain.'

Taylor was begging in her head from him to stop but couldn't seem to get the words to reach her tongue.

'Purple rain. Purple rain.' Taylor realised, with a feeling both chilling and warming at the same time, that Johnny was serenading her.

'I only wanted to see you bathing in the purple rain. I never wanted to be your weekend lover.' He sang with such passion, and he sang it for her. Butterflies- no bats, were going wild in her stomach.

He's singing to me. Taylor thought. Johnny Carolina's singing Purple Rain to me.
At that moment, Taylor allowed her walls to be lowered enough to observe just how attractive he was. For just that moment, she allowed herself to acknowledge her feelings for Johnny. She normally rejected those feelings, but right now, she just couldn't find the will to.

She watched and listened to him as he sang her favourite song to her. Her tea was going cold in her hands. She didn't notice.
He had such a smooth yet gruff voice. Almost smoky and husky. Even now Taylor found herself mesmerised by the feeling and emotion Johnny gave it. He sang it as he would sing any of his own songs.

She felt his eyes on hers, digging deeper and deeper within her. She liked him and she hated herself for it. Norris trusted her to stay professional but at the end of it all she was just like Susan and all the other women at the station who were going out of there way to Impress Johnny.

She fancied Johnny. How could she let that happen? She looked up from her lap and saw Johnny was closer than before. His guitar was to one side. She hadn't even noticed he'd stopped playing. His voice still rang in her head. In fact, now she paid attention, Johnny was sat a lot closer than before.

He reached out and slipped her cup of tea from her hands and put it down next to his. He looked back at Taylor. She looked troubled, frowning lightly. He gently touched her face and she let him, not knowing why. His thumb brushed across her cheek and a chill chased down her spine.
She wanted him. She wanted him so bad right there. But she wouldn't have him. She couldn't. She wouldn't allow herself to go that far. Not with Johnny.

She fought for control of her body again. She needed to be strong to fight off the waves of lust and emotion that were radiating from Johnny. His hand slipped around to her neck, tangling in her hair. She wanted to do the same to him. His forehead pressed to hers and she felt his warm breath on her lips. So close. Close enough to kiss.

No. Taylor told herself sternly. Enough is enough.
She put her hands on Johnny's chest and pushed him back gently. He looked down at her and she shook her head.

'You promised you'd stop this,' she reminded him.

'I lied,' he whispered, moving forward again. She pushed against his chest.

'Johnny, stop.'

'Why?' he asked. For a second Taylor couldn't think of a reason why. What was the reason she couldn't kiss Johnny? Was there a reason?
Then her brain began working again.

'We need to keep this professional, remember?'

'You wanna play by the rules your whole life?' Johnny muttered, stroking her face again. He was staring at her lips. She wanted his to touch hers.

'Yes,' she answered. 'I'm a cop. I enforce the rules.'

'No, you enforce the law. Rules are different. Rules are guidelines. Rules can be broken.'

'But they're there for a reason,' Taylor insisted.

'A cautionary.'

'You pride yourself so much on being the rule breaker.'

'Why shouldn't I?' he asked. 'Some of my best memories were breaking rules.'

'But not me. I'm not like you, Johnny. If I give into you now, so soon, I'll hate myself.'

'That's okay, cause I wont hate you.' Taylor smiled sadly and shook her head.

'You're arrogant and totally in love with yourself, but you're also charming . . . and quite good company, when you're not doing this,' she smiled. 'We've got a good thing here, Johnny. Let's not spoil it.'
Johnny sighed and nodded, backing off.

This was strange to him. He'd pulled out the big guns. He'd serenaded her. He'd never done that before. But it still wasn't enough.
What does a guy have to do around here in order to get laid? He wondered. He couldn't understand Taylor. She wanted him. He could see she did. Despite what she said, he knew she wanted him.

He sure wanted her. He hoped it wasn't the rejection that made him want her more than ever, but it probably was. He had already admitted that he longed for what he couldn't have. And he couldn't have Taylor. That much was clear.

'Our tea's getting cold,' she spoke up. Johnny glanced at the black mug and couldn't help but smile. He picked it up and sipped from it.

'Think you're trying to tell me something here. Would you prefer me to wear your make up and paint my nails black?'

'Emo,' Taylor mutter with a smirk.

'Tease,' he coughed in reply. Taylor gave Johnny a playful shove and took a sip from her own mug. They sat quietly as they drank cold tea that neither of them really wanted anymore.