The Fame Game (Love and the City Book 3)

by Jillian Quinn

I park in the circular driveway out front of the largest house I’ve ever seen. A garage is on the left side of the property, with Nico’s Maserati parked in front of it.

  I gather my purse and the folder on the passenger seat. When I turn around, my hands full, Nico’s long legs are blocking the door.

  He extends his hand to me. “Need some help?”

  I don’t want to be rude and say no, so I give him the folder containing the documents he needs to sign. Nico shoves the folder under his arm and then helps me out of the car with the other. I glance up at the house, and my mouth drops open.

  Nico laughs. “The look on your face is priceless.”

  “So is this house,” I say in disbelief. “This place is incredible.”

  “It’s not mine,” he shoots back without hesitation. “I’m moving next week.”

  “I didn’t even know you could rent a mansion.”

  I laugh so hard I accidentally snort. Yeah, that’s not at all cute. Way to make an ass of yourself in front of one of your favorite actors.

  “It’s more common than you think,” Nico says, shutting my car door. “C’mon, I’ll give you the tour.”

  I bite my lip, still staring up at the house in awe. “I’d love one.”

  Nico grips my wrist and leads me toward the door, snapping my attention back to him. He looks gorgeous, his messy black hair gelled into place. His skin has a more olive tone than the other day. A tiny smile tugs at his mouth, and there’s a twinkle to his blue irises.

  Nico shows me the living room first. The walls are slate gray, with a modern and airy feel. For a man, his house is unusually clean. I was expecting a frat house with women’s panties draped over chandeliers like The Playboy Mansion. But like most bachelor pads, he has a massive flat-screen television, complete with a surround sound system and a sectional couch that takes up much of the room.

  In the dining room, there’s a table large enough to host The Last Supper with scripts scattered across it. Why does a single man need this much space to eat dinner?

  I lift a screenplay from the top of the stack. “The writing in this one is good.”

  “I’ve read it twice.”

  “Do you want me to talk to the studio?”

  He looks away and then shakes his head. “They already passed.”

  “Their loss.” I drop the heavy paper into the pile. “I’ll find you something better.”

  He cocks an eyebrow at me. “You think so? Because Vinnie has had little luck.”

  I throw my hands onto my hips. “Well, I’m not Vinnie.”

  His eyes travel down the front of my body. A smirk turns up the corner of his mouth, and a cute dimple creases his left cheek. “No, you’re not.”

  Am I hallucinating the way Nico is looking at me? Maybe. There’s no other explanation for it. He would never be interested in someone like me.

  And hello, he’s your client. So, yeah, he wasn’t checking you out. You made that shit up.

  “I think we should skip the rest of the tour,” I say once we enter the kitchen.

  Where would he take me next? His bedroom? Nope, not going to happen. That would be way too unprofessional. And I’m supposed to be acting like one.

  Nico opens a cabinet that has a refrigerator inside. All the appliances blend in with the rest of the wall. Rich people are weird. They’re so fancy they can’t let people see they have a refrigerator or a dishwasher? That’s just crazy.

  “What can I get you? Beer, wine, water, soda…”

  “Water is good.”

  Nico hands me a bottle of Perrier. I stifle my laughter as I twist the cap on the sparkling water. My mom would laugh her ass off if she were here. She would say, “Tap water is the same as bottled water, only it’s free. And if it’s free, it’s for me.”

  Nico fixes his eyes on me from across the kitchen island. “What’s the plan?”

  “We have to repair your image,” I confess, wishing there was a better way to say it. He nods, and I continue, “Some studios think you’re a drunk or on drugs.”

  “I’m not,” he groans. I give him a hard look, and he adds, “I promise. There were a few times when I showed up after a late night, but I’m not an addict.”

  I hate being the bearer of unpleasant news. So, it’s better if I just rip off the Band-Aid and give it to him straight.

  “I think we should start with a minor part in a big film and work our way up.”

  He studies my face, his expression unreadable. Either he’s a better actor than I give him credit, or the idea dumbfounds him. My throat is suddenly dry, and I take a sip of the fancy bubble water. It tastes weird as it slides down my throat.

  “That’s our best course of action.”

  Nico cracks open a can of Dr. Pepper and takes a big gulp. He licks the soda from his lips, which is way sexier than it should be. But this is Nico Chase we’re talking about. Everything he does is sexy.

  “I’ve been the lead in every movie for the last five years,” he says in a hushed tone. “It’s come to this?”

  “Afraid so. I put out some feelers. I’m waiting to hear from a few studios.”

  I hand Nico the contract. “I need you to sign this. To make it official. Then we can get to work.”

  Nico signs on the line, and I follow suit. I have my first A list client. Holy crap! I want to do cartwheels through his massive house. But I’m an adult. And a professional.

  “How about a celebratory party?” Nico’s voice is deep and husky.

  I wave my hand dismissively. “That’s unnecessary.”

  “Not for you,” he points out. “I’m moving next week. And I’m having one last party before I go.”

  “Oh… Um…”

  Say yes, you idiot.

  “Sure, I guess. It’s just—”

  “You’re worried about what people will think?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Don’t. If I cared about what everyone said about me, I would never leave the house.” He comes around to my side of the counter, so close I can feel his breath on my lips. “Stop thinking so hard, agent girl.”

  Chapter Nine

  Nico

  I push my way through the crowded bar, keeping my head down. The ball cap helps to obscure my face, but with dozens of people in attendance, it’s only a matter of time before someone recognizes me.

  Lately, I have been finding more clever ways to hide in public. Despite being hounded by paparazzi, I’m sick of sitting inside the house. So, when Aaron asked me to meet him at a bar in Studio City, I said, I can always use a drink.

  Aaron was my driver and bodyguard for a few years, but after he met his wife, my lifestyle caused nothing but drama for him. Like everyone else in my life, he moved on.

  A blonde woman throws back her head and laughs, her long curls smacking my cheek as I pass by a group of young women. For a split second, I swear she looked in my direction. Maybe I’m just growing more paranoid.

  A dark-haired man with broad shoulders, dressed in a Lakers jersey and jeans, punches the air when our home team scores. He high-fives his friend, accidentally slamming his elbow into my arm. I shake off the pain spreading up my bicep and lift my head higher to look for Aaron.

  He stands up from a booth in the back of the bar and waves his hand to get my attention. Thankfully, the high wooden walls around our table will provide us with some form of privacy.

  I slip into the booth, careful to keep my face hidden.

  Aaron gives me a double take and shakes his head. “When was the last time you slept?”

  I roll my eyes, sick of getting lectures about my behavior. “This morning. But thanks for asking, Dad.”

  He tips a bottle of beer to his lips and ignores my comment.

  “I need a favor,” I say as he slides a beer in front of me.

  I down half of my beer, glaring across the table at him. After everything I did for Aaron, he’s not in the position to deny me.

  “I’m getting kicked out of my house. I need somewhere to crash
for a few days.”

  His right eyebrow raises. “What did you do?”

  “I can’t pay the rent.”

  Shock scrolls across his face. “How is that possible? You’re one of the highest-paid actors in Hollywood.”

  “I was the highest-paid.” I drink the rest of my beer in one gulp and set it on the table. “Those paychecks are long gone.”

  Anymore, I feel like all I do is drink away my problems, moving from one hangover to the next. What else is there for an unemployable actor to do in this city other than a party?

  He shakes his head. “I don’t see how you could have spent that much money in the last few years.”

  “Josh says I’m broke.”

  “You own your cars, right?”

  I nod.

  “Sell them until you find another job.”

  “First, Vinnie dropped me. Then, I get evicted from my house.” I tug at the ends of my hair and let out a frustrated groan. “I’m not selling my cars. They’re all that I have left.”

  “How did you blow all of that money?”

  I roll my shoulders against the leather bench. “Because I’m an idiot who never listened to his financial advisor.”

  Aaron took all the money I paid him and invested it in a mixture of stocks, bonds, and real estate. He was smart. I was stupid.

  Aaron tips his head at my empty bottle. “You want another?”

  “What kind of question is that?”

  “You need to stop drinking. It’s the reason you’re losing everything.”

  Aaron flags down a waitress in her early twenties. She has short blonde hair that’s tucked behind her ears and cheeks dusted with freckles. A bright smile tugs at the corners of her mouth as she approaches our table. I remove my cell phone from my pocket and flip through dozens of missed calls and text messages.

  “Four Guinness,” Aaron says before she can open her mouth.

  He knows the drill. When he’s with me, Aaron does all the talking. She mutters a quick ‘Be right back’, and then she takes off toward the bar.

  “Do you remember the days when we could act like normal people?” Aaron looks across the table at me, his arms folded across his thick chest. “I miss those days.”

  “I landed my first role when I was nineteen. My life hasn’t been the same since.”

  “And now look at you, ten years later, and one of the world’s biggest stars.”

  “More like the world’s biggest failure,” I choke out.

  “Look at Robert Downey, Jr. No one would work with him for years. And now he’s Iron Man. He pulled in like eighty million dollars for the last Avengers movie.”

  “This town is unforgiving.”

  “They will forgive you,” he says with a stern look on his face. “Stop fucking around. No more drunken escapades captured on film. If you want redemption, earn it. Work for it.”

  The waitress appears a few seconds later, leaving our bottles on the table. I take a few swigs of mine, and then I tap my bottle against Aaron’s.

  “Can I crash at your house for a few days?”

  “Claire won’t put up with binge drinking. And I can’t have the kids seeing you drunk and whacked out of your skull.”

  “It’s just a few days,” I promise. “You won’t even notice I’m there.”

  “I’ll talk to Claire. But I wouldn’t count on her saying yes. She hates you after the scene you made at Jace’s party.”

  “I fucked up,” I admit.

  “That’s an understatement.” He groans. “I hope your new agent can get your career back on track.”

  I take a long sip of my beer and lick the foam from my lips. “She doesn’t have any big names on her client list. So, I’m not getting my hopes up.”

  “She’s taking just as much of a risk on you as you are with her,” he points out.

  “Yeah, I guess. But she has nothing to lose.”

  “Neither do you.”

  Chapter Ten

  Willow

  I hang up with another studio, depleted after hearing no so many times in a row. Everyone warned me about signing Nico Chase as my first client. They said it would be impossible to get him an acting job. But the word impossible has never been in my vocabulary, and I’m determined to turn Nico’s career around.

  Ash walks into my cubicle as I’m biting on my nail. I do that when I’m nervous, which I know is a disgusting habit—because Harley yells at me all the time for it. With my best friend and former roommate living in Philly, I don’t have anyone to stop me from acting like a total train wreck. But when I see the disapproving look on Ash’s face, I expect the get a Harley-level pep talk.

  “Girl, you look a mess,” Ash says, shaking her head. She swipes her hand at mine, knocking my finger from my mouth. “And stop biting your nails. That’s gross.”

  “I’m so stressed,” I admit. “You were right about Nico. No one wants to work with him. Burke thinks he’ll ruin my career before it even begins. I can’t mess this up.”

  Ash leans against the cubicle wall with her arms crossed over her chest. “The few times I went over to his house, he was drunk and even had the nerve to hit on me in front of Dylan.”

  I laugh. “I bet Dylan loved that.”

  “Yeah, definitely not.”

  I rest my arm on my desk and look up at Ash. “Did I make a mistake? Because so far, this is looking like the worst decision I’ve ever made. Burke will fire me if this doesn’t work out.”

  “Did he say that?”

  “In so many words.”

  She bites her cheek, staring down at my messy desk that has random papers on every surface. My office is like an extension of my car, which represents my scatterbrain thoughts right now.

  Ash lifts a script from my desk and flips through a few of the pages. “I liked this one for Nico, but the director didn’t want to work with Nico.”

  “His assistant told me that an hour ago.” I lift another screenplay from my desk and hand it to Ash. “War of the Gods is perfect for Nico.”

  “I considered pitching it to Nico until Dylan told me how much it sucks.”

  “Ha! What does he know about this business? I think Nico would make an exceptional Hades.”

  “That’s what I said,” Ash coos. “But you know Dylan, he read two pages and threw the script on the coffee table before he kissed me.”

  “You guys are so grossly cute I want to throw up,” I joke.

  Ash sticks her tongue out at me.

  “Anyway, I left a message for the studio an hour ago.”

  “Firehouse Films bought this one, right?”

  I nod. “I think we’ll have a better shot with an indie studio. Nico made a lot of mistakes in the past few years. He has to work his way back to the top.”

  “It’s crazy how far he’s fallen,” Ash says in a hushed tone. “When people look at movie stars like Nico, they assume they have it all figured out.”

  “Method actors take their craft a little too far. In Nico’s case, it’s like he’s still living the life of his character from Twelve Steps.”

  “He was amazing in that movie,” Ash says with a smile. “Nico nailed homeless, strung-out junkie. His performance was reminiscent of Leonardo DiCaprio in The Basketball Diaries.”

  “Awesome movie. But I love Leo in pretty much anything.”

  Ash taps my shoulder. “I only have thirty minutes for lunch. Wanna grab a burrito with me?”

  “Do you ever get sick of burritos?”

  She rolls her shoulders. “I hear they’re one of the major food groups.”

  Laughter shakes through me as I glance at the clock. “I don’t know if I have time. I’m still waiting on a few calls back about Nico.”

  Ash tugs on my arm. “Take a break. You look like you haven’t slept in a month.”

  I recheck my phone for messages for what feels like the hundredth time. “What if someone calls?”

  “You need to eat,” she points out. “And working yourself to death won’t help you or
Nico.”

  “One condition,” I say with a grin. “Come with me tonight to Nico’s party.”

  Ash bites her lip. “Um… I don’t know how Dylan will feel about that. He’s not exactly one of Nico’s biggest fans.”

  “Bring him with you. Nico said I could invite friends, and since he already knows both of you, I don’t see the problem.”

  Ash fishes her cell phone from her pocket and types furiously on the keypad. “Dylan hates when I rearrange our plans.”

  “He’s such a control-freak.”

  She chuckles. “But I don’t hate that side of him in the bedroom.”

  “I bet,” I say with laughter in my voice.

  Ash makes a face when her phone rings. She sighs, her fingers gliding across the keys as she gets into what looks like a heated debate with Dylan. He’s hard to know. His need for control over everything would drive me crazy. They are complete opposites in every way, but their differences seem to balance out the other.

  “Okay,” Ash says as she shoves her phone into her pocket. “All good.”

  “He’s mad, isn’t he?”

  She holds up her hands and shrugs. “He’ll get over it.”

  “You guys just got back together a few months ago. I don’t want to come between you.”

  She waves her hand to dismiss my concern. “Dylan’s going out with Sloan tonight. He’s just bummed that I’m not going with them to the party.”

  “For Date Crashers?”

  “It’s a Hollywood party. He said something about mingling with people in the business. I told Dylan he could pick me up from Nico’s house afterward.”

  I check my phone again for messages and sigh.

  Ash extends her hand and helps me up from the chair. “I’m getting worried about you, woman. You look like a desperate woman waiting for a one-night stand to call.”

  I laugh at her silliness. “I’m not that bad.”

  “You’re getting there,” she says, leading me out of my cubicle. “Were you ever afraid to leave the table at a restaurant if your food comes, and then the second you get up to go to the bathroom, your waiter appears?”

  “Yeah. Dozens of times.”