Wheels of Fire (Hollywood Demons Book 3)

by Autumn Jones Lake

  “I miss you too.” He pauses and my heart skips. “I have good news though.”

  “You finished the album and you’re coming home sooner than you thought?”

  He lets out a soft huff of laughter. “No, little dove. We’re making progress though.”

  “What else?”

  “Mark worked out a deal for us to contribute a song to the Elimination Date soundtrack.”

  “Seriously? That’s wonderful!” I stop and consider the irony. “I auditioned for a bit part in that.”

  “What happened?”

  I shrug even though he can’t see me. “I never got a callback.”

  “Fuck them,” he growls. “Maybe I should’ve said no.”

  Now I wish I hadn’t told him. “Don’t be crazy! This is huge for you guys! They probably heard I won’t flash my boobs and wouldn’t have hired me anyway.”

  He chuckles.

  “Wait, does this mean you’re going to be up there even longer?” Dammit that sounded more selfish than celebratory. Thankfully, Chaser doesn’t hold it against me.

  “I don’t think so. We’ll work it into our normal schedule. Mark says we’ll be invited to the premiere. You’ll need a killer dress so they know what they missed.”

  He tells me about the ideas they kicked around in the studio. I share how embarrassed I was when I flubbed my lines today.

  Basically, we talk about everything that’s happened in our lives since we spoke yesterday.

  Well, almost everything.

  It’s on the tip of my tongue to spill all the details of Andrew’s visit, but for some reason, I don’t.

  Whenever Chaser’s away, he encourages me to share every little mundane detail of my life. Why don’t I want to tell him about Andrew’s visit to the set?

  Part of it is my excitement over the soundtrack. The next best thing to seeing myself on the silver screen would be hearing one of Chaser’s songs in a film.

  My eyelids grow heavy and our pauses extend for longer periods of time. Chaser and I frequently fall asleep on the phone together. I’m dreading the day our phone bill shows up in the mail, yet we always have trouble saying goodbye.

  “Time for bed, little dove,” he says.

  “I wish you were here.”

  “Me too. You’re coming to visit soon. I wish I could say I’ll show you around but honestly, I haven’t done much exploring myself.”

  “Cutter really cracks the whip, huh?”

  “Yup. It’s working, though. Except for the random chicks Jacob keeps finding and bringing back to the house, he’s on the straight and narrow.”

  “Well, he needs at least one vice so don’t be too hard on him,” I tease.

  We finally say good night.

  I lay in our bed, staring at the ceiling for a long time after we hang up.

  The nagging thought that I should’ve told him about Andrew’s visit won’t go away.

  Then again, I never mentioned Andrew’s offer to model the T-shirts, either. I guess, I figured it was another one of Andrew’s big ideas that would never come to fruition.

  Besides, after the tour, Chaser and I went home. Got engaged. Who cares about some stupid T-shirts when your boyfriend takes you on a romantic getaway to propose?

  Maybe deep down I’m being selfish. I don’t want to tell Chaser. He’ll be pissed. And I don’t want to do anything that delays him finishing the album and coming home to me as soon as possible.

  Even if he has to go right back out on the road.

  I toss and turn for most of the night.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Mallory

  Pamela’s still cool to me the next morning. I can’t decide if I should apologize for Andrew showing up yesterday or let it go and hope she forgets all about it.

  At least Cindy’s cheerful and happy to see me. As she spreads foundation over my forehead, I peek up at her. “Are you doing anything after work tonight?”

  “Does drinking a bottle of wine alone in my apartment count?”

  “You can always come visit me. Or we can go out to a movie, grab dinner, or something?”

  “You don’t see enough of me here?”

  My shoulders jerk up. Maybe Cindy has enough friends and isn’t interested in socializing with me outside of work. Whatever. Please let her be free to go to Andrew’s with me tonight. After all my tossing and turning, I decided I can’t go there by myself.

  “So, I have a friend who’s putting together an ad campaign for some T-shirts he designed. Are you interested in doing the hair and makeup?”

  “Are you serious? God, Mallory, yes!” she squeals in my face. In a quieter voice she adds, “I could use the extra cash.”

  “Awesome. Thank you.”

  “No, thank you. I appreciate it.”

  “Do you mind going with me tonight? He wants to check out a few spots on his property for the photos.”

  In the mirror I catch her frown. “Is your friend doing this at his house?”

  “Yeah, it’s all very low budget. But he said he’ll pay you your regular daily rate,” I hurry to add.

  “Who is it?”

  “Uh, one of Chaser’s friends.”

  “Oh, okay. Sure. I can stop by for a little bit. That way I can get an idea of what look he wants. When’s the full shoot?”

  “Saturday.”

  “Perfect.” She bends down in front of me. “Close your eyes. Don’t blink,” she whispers as she sweeps shadow over my lids. I don’t blink, but I sneeze in her face which is worse.

  “I’m sorry!”

  She waves off my apology. “I’ve had worse. Maybe you’re allergic to this, let me go find something else.”

  As she steps away to rifle through her makeup kit, I catch a glimpse of Pamela in the doorway. “Hey!” I wave to her. “Are you coming or going?”

  Her frosty glare should send a shiver down my spine but I think I’ve built up an immunity to them. “Waiting for the chair.”

  “I’ll be done in a sec,” Cindy says without looking up.

  I lean forward and pick up my script, waving it at Pamela. “Do you want to run lines?”

  “Sure. I’ll be right back.”

  Phew. It’ll be nice if we can go back to being friends again. Although, will that be possible when she finds out I’m modeling Andrew’s shirts?

  Or will it drive another wedge between us?

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Mallory

  I’m a mess of nerves as I leave the set.

  “I’ll follow you up, okay?” Cindy says.

  I’d feel better if we were going to Andrew’s together. That way she can’t leave me. But that’s a horrible thing to think, right? If I’m so damn nervous, why am I doing this in the first place?

  Andrew’s a friend. He’s Chaser’s friend. I’m doing Chaser’s friend a favor. There’s no harm in that. Everything’s fine.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to ride together?” I ask.

  “I can’t. I need to be home by seven.”

  Shit, shit, shit.

  “Okay. Follow me.”

  I move through traffic at a snail’s pace earning a few honks and middle fingers from my fellow drivers. Cindy stays right behind me. We pass the turn for my road and I glance at it longingly.

  We continue up the short, narrow maze of tiny streets leading up to Andrew’s much plusher home near the top of the Hollywood Hills. Cindy leaves her car on the street in the perfect spot for a quick getaway.

  She pulls a small makeup trunk out of her car and joins me. “Are you nervous?”

  “No. Just tired. It was a long day. I should’ve rescheduled or something.”

  We pass Andrew’s Ferrari, his black Chevy Blazer, his Harley, and a few other motorized toys before reaching the side entrance. I take a deep breath before knocking.

  The door swings open. Andrew’s lean, shirtless body fills the space. Without permission, my gaze travels down his inked torso to the dips at his hips, disappearing under his tight, l
ow-slung jeans, all the way to his bare feet.

  “Hey, girl. Feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.” At first, he seems happy to see me. The welcoming smile fades as I shift and his gaze lands on Cindy. “Mallory, who’s your friend?”

  “This is Cindy.” I wrap my arm around her shoulders, pulling her forward. “The makeup artist I told you about.”

  “Oh. Right. You didn’t need to bring her today.”

  I shrug. “I thought she could help us with the location and lighting or whatever.”

  Cindy holds up her makeup trunk. “I brought a few things to get an idea of the look you want.”

  “Cool. Cool. Thank you.” He stands back and opens the door wider. “Come in.”

  The place is neater and tidier than I expected now that Pamela’s gone. Although the furniture has been replaced and rearranged.

  “You were right,” Andrew says over his shoulder as we follow him through the house. “Pamela barbequed all my furniture after New York.”

  I snort and choke on my laughter.

  Cindy taps my shoulder. “That’s Pamela’s ex?” she whispers.

  “Yup.”

  “Jesus, he’s hot. And I don’t even like rockers.”

  “He’s a serial cheater,” I warn.

  “And that’s why I don’t date rockers.” Her mouth twists down. “Sorry.”

  I’m not offended. Chaser’s nothing like Andrew. “Nope. I hear you.”

  Andrew stops at the sliding glass door that leads to a patio of sand-colored slate leading to a kidney-shaped deep blue pool the size of a small lake. The property curves to the right with lush trees and shrubbery providing the allusion of a private, island oasis.

  “This is beautiful, Andrew,” Cindy says, staring at everything.

  He stands by the pool and throws his arms out wide. “This is my Zen. My peaceful, happy place, you know?”

  Cindy’s intrigued and keeps studying the pool and trees. “What’s your vision?”

  Andrew stares at one of the elegant black, iron lounge chairs scattered around the pool deck. “Maybe some old Hollywood glam with a punk rock vibe?”

  Even with his eyes hidden by dark sunglasses, when he turns my way, my skin sizzles. “Can you make her hair all wavy.” He flips his hands around his face. “Like Cleo Moore? Mallory always reminded me of that actress.”

  That’s news to me, but okay.

  “Definitely.” Cindy pulls me closer and pushes me into the lounge chair. “Mallory’s hair is longer, but I can curl it away from her face. Give her some sophisticated loose waves. Here.” She brushes my hair back from the side of my face. “And here.”

  “Yeah, that’s good.” While Andrew seems excited, I’m more and more weirded out with every passing second.

  “Who are your other models?” I ask.

  “A couple girls from the clubs and um, this kid from another band.” He turns to Cindy. “You mind working on some other people too?”

  “Not at all. I can handle all of it.”

  They end up walking over the grounds, talking about which spots might work best. My inner matchmaker thinks they’d make a cute couple but then my practical side says Cindy doesn’t need the heartache.

  “Oh shoot!” Cindy stares at her watch. “I’m so sorry. I have to go.”

  “That’s all right. You’ve been a huge help, Cindy.” Andrew pulls out his wallet and hands her some cash. They speak in low tones for a few minutes while my gaze lingers on the gate leading to the driveway. I plan to make my escape with Cindy.

  Andrew walks us out front with a hand at each of our backs. Cindy breaks away from us and jogs down to her car. “See you Saturday, Andrew. See you tomorrow, Mallory.” She waves before taking off.

  I grab my car door handle, but Andrew presses his palm against the glass. “Hey, can you come back inside for a second? I have something I want to show you.”

  “Uh… sure.” I follow him back into the house. “Do you feel better about the shoot now?”

  “Yeah, I meant to take some test shots of you but we can do that Saturday.”

  Inside the house, I’m not sure where to go. He bounds up the stairs. Instead of following, I perch on the edge of the couch.

  Andrew returns a few minutes later and holds up a navy blue T-shirt about ten sizes too small for him to his chest. “What do you think?”

  “Oh! Is that one of your shirts? It’s cute.” I stand and move closer so I can study the fairy-tale-like scene depicted on the material. Except, on closer inspection, it’s kind of gory. The busty, blonde, barely dressed princess wields a bloody knife and wears a deranged smile. “Wow, that’s…something.” I stare at it a little longer. “It’s so…detailed. You drew that?”

  He shrugs. “I like drawing crazy stuff. Always have.”

  “It’s incredible.” I return to leaning against the couch, my gaze straying toward the door. “Maybe you should publish comic books, instead of T-shirts?”

  “Maybe.” He slings the shirt over his shoulder and approaches. “Thanks for being so cool about my art. Pamela always told me how lame it was.”

  “It’s not lame at all. You’re really talented.” My eyes return to the door. “I should probably…”

  “Come here, girl.” He envelopes me in a friendly enough hug, patting my back a few times. “I’ve missed you guys. How’s Chaser doing locked up with Mark?”

  “Good, I think.” I pull away and hold up my hand between us, flashing my ring. “He proposed when we were home visiting his family.”

  He rolls his lip and stares at the ring for a second. “I heard about that. That’s great. Congratulations,” he says with all the enthusiasm of someone just given a week to live.

  Huh. Maybe his breakup soured him on all relationships.

  He lights up a cigarette. My eyes water and my nose twitches. I step away and run my hand over the back of the new couch. “This looks nice.”

  He snorts a stream of smoke through his nose and casts a sad glance at the new furniture. “It’s been hell without her.”

  My heart twitches but I can’t muster up any sympathy after what he did. So, I say nothing.

  “Do you want something to drink?” He bangs his palm against the side of his head. “Fuck, I should’ve asked you sooner. Sorry.”

  “It’s fine.” He seems so forlorn or anxious. As much as I’m dying to leave, I can be polite and stay for a simple glass of water, right? “Water would be good.”

  “Have a seat.” He sweeps his arm in the general direction of the couch.

  I set my purse on the coffee table—noting the absence of the giant cocaine-filled Tupperware containers—and perch on the edge of one stiff couch cushion.

  A few seconds later, something instrumental that I strongly suspect is Andrew playing the piano drifts from the speakers. “This is pretty,” I call out. “Is that you?”

  “Pretty.” He returns to the living room with two wineglasses and a green glass bottle. The cigarette in his mouth bounces. “It’s something I was fucking around with since I have all this time on my hands.”

  He sets the wine and glasses on the coffee table in front of me. “I’m all out of water.”

  “Seriously?” The last thing I need to do is get tipsy when I’m alone with Andrew. “I’m not a fancy girl. Tap water is fine.”

  He drops down next to me, so close his body heat simmers over my skin. I shift away but he follows.

  “I can’t believe you two are engaged.” He takes my hand and stares at my ring. “Where’d Chaser get this from? A gumball machine? It’s not even a diamond.”

  Stunned by the bitterness in his voice, I yank my hand out of his grasp. “It’s a sapphire. Like Lady Di’s ring.”

  “I expected him to be more original than that.” Andrew shrugs.

  “Well, I love it and he knew I’d love it.”

  He turns his big puppy eyes my way. “How’d he do it?”

  “In Niagara Falls.” My heart flutters at the memory and I can almost
feel the mist from the falls over my skin.

  “What a sap,” he grouches, wiping the smile off my face.

  Maybe he’s just being a jerk because he’s upset about his own breakup. Had he planned to propose to Pamela eventually? “I’m sorry about you and Pamela.”

  He shrugs like it’s no big deal. “It’s my own fault.”

  “Can’t argue with you there.”

  He twists, tucking his leg under him so he’s facing me. “So, what’s next? Going to settle down and pop out some babies?”

  “Sheesh. Why does everyone keep asking me that?”

  “It’s a natural question” His gaze drops to my left hand. “Why bother getting married otherwise?”

  “Because we love each other.”

  He reaches over and brushes his knuckle over my cheek, pushing a few strands of hair off my face. “You’re so pretty. I only watch Shallow End to see you every week. Did I ever tell you that?”

  “Uh, no.” I scoot back a few inches. Nervous laughter bubbles out of me as I try to subtly shake off his touch. “Why wouldn’t you watch for Pamela? She has way more lines.”

  “That’s only ’cause her tits are bigger. You’re a better actress.”

  I blink, and stare down at my chest, unsure of what to say. An icky sensation rolls over me from talking about Pamela this way with him.

  As I’m trying to come up with something to break the silence, Andrew cups the back of my head and drags me toward him.

  “Whoa. Stop.” I slap my hand on his chest and shake out of his hold. “What are you doing?”

  His gaze drops to my lips. “Kissing you.”

  “Hold up. What?” My eyes bug out. “No. No way. You and I are friends, Andrew. That’s it. I’m with Chaser. We’re engaged.”

  “Jesus Christ, Mallory.” He throws his hands in the air and swivels away from me. “I don’t want to be your friend.”

  “W…What?”

  When he turns my way again, sweet fun-loving Andrew has left the building. I barely recognize the wicked sex fiend in front of me. “I want to fuck you.” Each word oozes from his mouth with deliberate ease.