by Alexa Aston
This time she knew two of the three men standing there. "Welcome to Casa Corrigan, gentleman. You know where the game is.”
She ushered in a tall, muscular actor with the number one crime drama on the networks and a tall, lanky redhead who was a rising new comic she and Jolene had watched for two years at various clubs.
As they moved inside the foyer, Cassie said, “Loved you on Kimmel last week, Zak.”
He turned, a smile breaking out across his face. “Hey, thanks. You new?”
“Yeah. I’m Cassie, Rhett’s assistant.”
“You look a little familiar.”
“I room with Jolene Farrell. She drags me to a lot of the comedy clubs, checking out the competition. Maybe you’ve seen me there.”
“Yeah, I know Jo. So you’re working for Hotshot now? Hey, if things work like I hope and this HBO special comes through, I think I’ll need to hire an assistant. You interested?”
Cassie laughed. “You don’t even know me and you’re trying to steal me away from Rhett?”
“Hey, if Hotshot thinks you’re good enough for him, you’d be good enough for me.”
“Let’s see if HBO comes through first, Zak. Then we’ll talk salary. You might not be able to afford me.”
The comedian laughed. “You’re right about that. I just got my back rent paid off. On Kimmel one night and still trying to find two coins buried in the couch to rub together the next day.”
“I can relate.”
Cassie walked with Zak Mercury to Rhett’s game room. Loud applause greeted her, causing her to blush to her roots.
The Lauren model raised his beer bottle. “Here’s to Cassie, queen of our hearts.”
The men gathered all toasted her.
Zak looked at the spread along the long countertop. “You cook, too? I am so gonna hire you away from Hotshot.”
“Come on, guys. I threw together some subs, a seven-layer dip, and baked some cookies. You act like you’ve never seen food before.”
“In this house, it’s feast or famine. Maria’s either filling us with enchiladas or we’re eating crumbs off the floor,” Breck said.
“Or fighting over the last piece of greasy pizza,” Ken Cameron added. Cassie thought he looked even more handsome in person than he did on TV each week.
Rhett touched her elbow. “Cassie, I’d like to introduce everyone. This is Darin Hart. We modeled together. Chris Whittaker moved here in third grade, and he and Breck and I were like the Three Musketeers.”
Cassie smiled at the Chris Rock ringer, glad she could just think of him as Chris.
“That’s Ken Cameron of Crime Time fame and Leo Parker, my trainer. He promises we’re both off the clock on poker nights and we can eat whatever we want.”
“Cassie already knows me, Hotshot. She actually recognized me.”
“Oh, yeah. Zak Mercury.”
“Of Kimmel fame,” Zak interjected. “She saw me there and in person with her roommate.”
Breck asked, “So you like the comedy clubs, Cassie?”
She shrugged. “Sometimes. My roommate, Jolene, is an aspiring comic. I catch her act and also check out the competition with her.”
“Jolene’s good,” Zak said. “As raw as they come, in that Amy Schumer unfiltered way.”
“You haven’t heard raw until I’ve asked for her share of this month’s rent,” Cassie quipped. “They haven’t come up with a rating that covers Jolene’s mouth when the topic’s money and how much she owes.”
Everyone laughed and begin filling plates as they seated themselves around the table. Rhett handed her a beer.
“No, I think I’ll pass. I’m going to head home. You’ve got things covered here.”
“You outdid yourself today, Cassie. I can tell this is going to work out great for both of us.”
“What time would you like me here tomorrow? I’ve made a list of the things I want us to talk about.”
“Nine is good if traffic works for you. But remember, you’re not punching a clock around with me.”
“I know.” She picked up her purse and the keys to the Range Rover.
“Don’t tell me you’re leaving?” Darin asked.
“Me. Not the food. You guys plug away.”
“No, seriously. Stay and play,” Darin begged. “You do play poker?”
“I’m afraid not in a high stakes game like this.”
Chris laughed. “You’ve got to be kidding. I’m a fireman. This is not the big leagues, Cassie, else my wife wouldn’t let me be here.”
“Really?”
Rhett nodded. “We play for the fun of it. The most anyone’s ever lost might be twenty bucks in a night. We play in order to get together and have a little fun.”
She shook her head. “You don’t want me horning in on your party, guys.”
“Hey, we need someone better to look at than Darin. Frankly, I’m sick of his perfect hair and chiseled cheekbones,” Ken teased.
“You look at dead people all the time,” Darin fought back. “You should be glad you get to look at handsome me who’s actually alive and not some actor playing dead on a slab at autopsy.”
Rhett looked at Cassie. “See? We love having fun.”
“Come on, General. Pull up a chair. You can help me cheat if you don’t know how to play,” Breck said.
“Them’s fightin’ words to a Texan, Breck O’Dell,” Cassie proclaimed, putting on a thick accent. “We play poker in the womb if’n there’s more than one of us in there. If not, we learn Texas Hold ‘Em in the hospital nursery. Bring it on, boys.”
Everyone got settled, food in hand, cards dealt, and the game was on. Cassie thought Rhett was right. These guys completed one hand maybe every ten minutes. The rest was spent picking at each other, teasing, and gossiping like cheerleaders in the bathroom on prom night.
In other words, she had a blast.
It didn’t hurt that she got plenty lucky, either. By the end of the night, she had bested every man at the table, some more than twice.
“Lady Luck was on your side, Cassie,” Ken told her. “I think you two ganged up on us men tonight.”
“I’m beat and broke,” Chris proclaimed. “Plus, Rhonda expected me home about twenty minutes ago.”
The men began standing and muttering goodnights. Cassie started clearing the table.
“No,” Rhett stopped her. “You prepared everything. Breck and I’ll clean up. Head on home. Make it ten tomorrow morning. This was a late night for a first day.”
“Okay,” she agreed, always willing to leave dirty dishes in someone else’s hands. “See you then.”
She walked out with Zak and Leo, who told her he’d sneaked a peek in the fridge and approved of all the fresh fruits and vegetables she’d purchased.
“Rhett eats pretty well. I don’t mind him falling off the wagon with some queso and chips every now and then. Breck’s the one you have to watch. He is a junk food king.”
“I’ll keep him in line. Treats only when he’s good.”
Zak walked her to the Rover. “Jolene doing any standup next week?”
“I’m not sure. We’ve been hit and miss seeing each other for a couple of days now. Why?”
“I’d like to come by and see her act. Say hi.”
“Oh, Zak, she would love that. She really thinks you’re talented. We both do.”
“Talented enough to go out with me?”
Cassie hesitated.
“Whoops. I see the deer in the headlights look. Never mind, Cassie.”
“No, Zak. You just came out of left field on that one. To be honest, I don’t know if it’s something Rhett would approve of.”
“So Hotshot runs your life now?” Zak challenged.
“No, but he is my boss. You’re his friend. It’s not as if we move in the same circles.”
“Come on, Cassie. I told you I was having trouble paying my rent last week. Besides, Rhett isn’t like that. He’ll always be my friend. Whether I make it or not.”
“He
might draw a line between his friends being my friends. I don’t know him well enough after one day’s employment to second guess him on that. Can I pass for now, Zak? And think about it?”
He gave her shoulder a squeeze. “Sure. I’d still like to go with you and see Jolene perform sometime. Not as a date. Just one comic assessing another comic. Deal?”
“Sure.”
Cassie got into the car and headed down the drive.
She’d spent one day at the Corrigan estate. She didn’t want to risk losing out on this opportunity. Not even for someone as cute and funny as Zak Mercury.
CHAPTER 8
Rhett flipped his pillow back over and sank into it. The new side cooled him. For about three seconds.
He couldn’t sleep. Didn’t seem tired, even though he’d been up by six for weight training and it was already well past midnight now. Trouble always kept him awake, though, and it rained down with a capital “T”.
Trouble in the form of Randal James, to begin with. His mom—and all three sisters—had warned him about the model. He’d thought it was because she’d been Playmate of the Year and they wanted someone a little more respectable for him. Rhett had no intentions of settling down anytime soon, so their warnings flew past him.
Randi had an unbelievable body. That was what interested him. He could get good conversation from his family and friends. He’d simply needed a little mindless pleasure. The sex had been mind-blowing. Even thinking about Randi, Rhett’s body began to tense. She was that good in bed.
Despite the physical turn-on she produced in him, he’d begun to dread seeing her. Randi was smart and had let that slip. He’d let it pass and let her go back into pretend dumb blonde mode but he became wary after that.
Then she started the clingy behavior. Hinting at wanting more. Not more sex, though Lord knew they got plenty. Not more time with him since all she seemed to enjoy was sunbathing by his pool. Randal James wanted Rhett Corrigan’s ring on her finger. She was the last person he’d want to spend a lifetime with. Randi was manipulative, selfish, and played dirty.
As she had with Cassie.
Rhett had heard most of Cassie’s conversation with Breck and pieced together the rest. Cassie threatened Randi so she’d retaliated. And his new assistant and best friend thought they could keep news like that from him?
He realized that Breck had lowballed a few things along the way, downplayed others, and outright hid a few facts from him. His best friend’s intentions were solid, and whatever happened, he loved Breck all the same. Breck knew him, from the oldest of days, playing with Play-Doh and green army men, scaring each other with ghost stories that kept them up most of the night, all the way through voices dropping and pimples popping and getting their driver’s licenses and double-dating. Breck would move heaven and earth to protect him. Rhett knew that. Respected it. Would absolutely do the same for Breck.
This latest tire-slashing incident bothered him, though. It showed how really out of control Randi had become. It took every bit of acting Rhett had in him to saunter around the corner and lean against the door, scooping yogurt as if he hadn’t a care in the world.
Of course, this particular yogurt helped him along, so delicious that it made him lose himself for a moment in it. Leave it to Cassie to find something like that.
That was Trouble Number Two. Cassie Carroll. She’d roared into his life like a bat out of hell. Totaled his favorite ride. Freaked out as much about the car as about him being famous. He’d surprised himself when he’d offered her a job out of the blue.
Was she good at it? Damn straight. She might come off as a little scatterbrained but she had worked a few miracles around the house in a single day. She and Breck were already thick as thieves. Shep followed her around with a sloppy grin on his face—and that was without her feeding the dog Nilla wafers.
Worst of all, Rhett felt like a middle schooler with a big-time crush.
He couldn’t say why. Cassie was pretty enough but he rarely bothered with a woman unless she was a twelve on a scale of one to ten. Cassie was a solid seven at first glance but as he got to know her, her winning smile and bright, blue eyes did something to him. Suddenly, that seven became a seventeen.
In the past, Rhett preferred his partners successful. He preferred women who made their own money and a lot of it because then he knew they weren’t after him for his. Cassie was poorer than a church mouse and lived on the fringes of Hollywood. He knew because he’d had her checked out. His accountant was a computer whiz and he’d had Norman run a little info on her. Rhett had stopped by to pick it up after he saw Carreen this afternoon.
Cassie Carroll was one of a thousand girls who’d made her way to Hollywood in search of bigger dreams. Fame. Stardom. All she’d accumulated was heartbreak. What Norman could piece together was pretty dismal. No luck at auditions. A series of dead-end jobs, especially with that creep Manny she was working for only yesterday. Her place was a dump in a barely passable neighborhood, where her rent was late half the time.
That could be the roommate, though. After Cassie’s crack about Jolene’s pottymouth come rent time, Rhett wondered how much Cassie had carried Jolene. The life of a comic was nomadic and sporadic, as far as paying bills went. He should know after floating so-called loans to Zak Mercury for years now.
What struck him most was Cassie’s zest for life. She had an energy about her which made Rhett zoom in. He wasn’t the only one. He saw how she charmed his friends. They sure wouldn’t have asked Randal James to stay for poker. All night, they’d practically fought for her attention, while Cassie was totally at ease in the company of several famous men. She’d joked with them, listened to them, and fed them.
A guy couldn’t ask for much more.
Rhett longed to run his fingers through her long, copper hair. Touch the fair skin of her face. Kiss that unbelievable pair of lips.
That led to his current problem. He needed to dump Randi ASAP but he couldn’t make a move on Cassie. Rhett didn’t want her to think he hadn’t been honest or real with her regarding the job. He knew a few guys who would’ve offered her a job and then tried to jump her bones. Rhett wasn’t like that. Cassie was smart, decent, and deserved better.
For now, she had to stay hands off.
He wouldn’t bother thinking of Trouble Number Three. Carreen’s cancer diagnosis had kept him up nights. When pounding the pavement or lifting weights, he’d taken his anger out at the unfairness of it. Rhett provided his sister with the best doctors available. Her prognosis was hopeful. At this point, it was out of his hands so he’d put that problem on the back burner.
He then thought of the gnawing Trouble Number Four. His career. Anyone else in Hollywood would’ve been happy with the kind of money he banked from his action movies. His Q rating was in the top five in the industry. Rhett did endorsements in both Japan and Europe. He had material possessions galore.
Yet the thrill was gone. Or at least fading fast. He’d almost sleepwalked through the first portion of his last production, feeling he’d become a cartoon character. A GI Joe come to life, with all the wooden appeal of a stilted action figure. Rhett could turn it on and off without even thinking.
Fortunately, Mac Landry recognized that two days into the shoot, their second together. The director called a meeting with Rhett in the middle of a scene and had scurried off to Rhett’s trailer. Rhett followed, curious at what the old man might have up his sleeve this time.
“I don’t know what to say to you, kid.” Landry stared at Rhett from behind Milton Berle glasses. “You’re giving me everything I want. You know your lines. You move with a jungle cat’s grace. You’re handsome, self-assured, and just slightly cocky. So, why don’t I feel like I’m getting all you have?
“Because I’m bored.”
Rhett’s frankness hadn’t surprised the Hollywood legend. The director had immediately asked Rhett for some input, which Rhett spouted off the top of his head. He threw out ideas about the script that he didn’t even know had
circled inside his head.
Immediately, Mac called for a re-write, incorporating many of Rhett’s ideas into a more intricate, circular plot. They shot some of the action sequences while it was being done. In the end, both star and director were pleased with their efforts. Rhett’s contributions sent the movie into another orbit. The acting seemed rewarding. He was actually looking forward to the premiere and how audiences would react.
Unfortunately, it whetted his appetite for more. He wanted to stretch. Make films—not action movies. Oh, he didn’t want or need to go totally indie art house but he did want to move more into the mainstream. It didn’t have to be some mega-blockbuster like Avatar or Titanic. He would go for anything where conversation was key—suspense, romance, a comedy.
That made him think of Cassie again. Telling him to dump one of the best agents in the business and go for what he wanted. Not keeping Irv seemed like sacrilege. Being disloyal wasn’t in Rhett’s nature. Putting up with what he had from his agent, though, wasn’t either. Rhett knew there always came a time to make a stand. Maybe that time had arrived. It gave him a shiver of anticipation to venture into something new. He wanted it. Badly.
Yet he was perceived a certain way in Hollywood. He hadn’t been here that long but typecasting happened to everyone. He feared he’d been poured into the action hero mold and left to dry.
Rhett slammed his fist into his pillow. Enough thinking. Nothing would change between now and sunrise. He turned the pillow over again and buried himself in it.
As his mom, the ultimate Gone with the Wind fan always said, tomorrow’s another day.
◆◆◆
“Get up, Jolene. Your alarm’s blared for fifteen minutes now.”
Cassie handed her roommate a cup of black coffee, the only way Jolene would drink it. Jolene’s arm snaked out from under the covers and found her phone, shutting the dinging off. She grabbed at the mug, pulling it back under. She finally sat up, her eyes red and puffy. Cassie wondered if it was from too much drinking or man trouble.
Or both. With Jolene, you could never tell. Cassie had listened to too many sob stories from her roommate. She had no desire for Jolene to launch into another one this morning.