The Fame Game (Love and the City Book 3)

by Jillian Quinn

  She has a good point.

  After Flashbang wrapped, I thought I was at the top of my game. But as the months passed, and Vinnie grew more irritated with me, I let all the comments online get to my head. I spent hours, sometimes days, consuming articles and social media posts. This business requires a certain mental toughness no one tells you about before deciding to follow your passion across the country. At one time, I had the confidence to take on the world. But now, it’s as if the scared method actor from Rochester, New York, resurfaces with each failure.

  Willow claps her fingers around my wrist, a determined expression on her face. “You can do this, Nico.”

  No one has believed in me this much in a long time.

  My friends look at me with pity. Even my family feels sorry for me, though I know my cousins talk shit about my back to make a few bucks. Willow is the only person who’s not here out of loyalty or service.

  For the first time, in a very long time, someone wants to help me. Willow put her career on the line for me. So, at the very least, I can knock this meeting out of the park—because we both could use a win.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Willow

  My hands are still sweating, my stomach twisted into knots as I exit Building K with Nico at my side. Now that I’m out of that room, I can breathe easier.

  “I think it went well,” I lie as Nico opens the passenger door for me.

  He leans over me, his fingers gripping the top of the door. His skin smells of his spicy body wash, and with Nico this close, he’s making my head spin.

  “You think so?”

  “He didn’t say no,” I point out. “So, I’d say you have a shot at the part.”

  I hate lying to Nico. While I don’t know for sure, my gut tells me that Doug Cavanaugh brought Nico into his office to see what he was like in person. He seemed somewhat impressed, but I couldn’t help but notice how hard he was staring at him the entire time, as if he was waiting for him to screw up. They film the War of the Gods in two weeks, so I find it hard to believe they don’t already have an actor in mind for Hades’ role.

  “I’m freaking out,” Nico admits before he shuts my door. He gets into the car and continues, “I haven’t been this nervous about a meeting since I was going on auditions without an agent.”

  “That was a long time ago.”

  He runs a hand through his hair. “I’m not that old.”

  “No, you started young.”

  “I lucked out,” he says with a pained smile. “I was only in LA for eight months before I met Vinnie.”

  “Vinnie Sax has a gift for finding talent. He wasn’t wrong about you, Nico. You’re a talented actor, but you need to get back to the person you used to be if you want to move your career forward. No more drinking away your problems. Deal with the mess you made head-on.”

  Nico glances over at me as I pull on my seat belt. His eyes fall to my chest for a split second, and then he turns his head to back out of the parking space.

  “I’m not an alcoholic,” he says after a long pause. “Everyone thinks I am.”

  “Every time Ash came to your house to help you, she said you were drinking. She had a hard time reaching you by phone. My boss didn’t even want to keep you at Brenton-Lake. I fought for you. Whether you believe you have a problem is irrelevant. I need you sober and level-headed. No more parties or scandalous videos, okay?”

  He lets out an exaggerated breath. “Yeah, sure. Whatever you say, boss lady.”

  “I’m not your boss, Nico. I’m your agent. This is a partnership. We are a team. If you don’t work, I don’t get paid. No one wants you to find you a job more than I do.”

  Nico drives off the Firehouse Films lot.

  “No drinking,” he says under his breath. “I’ll do my best.”

  “The next time you think about drinking, I want you to remember the damage alcohol has caused you. I want you to remember the house you had to leave behind, all the friends and jobs you lost.”

  “Damn, agent girl.” He groans. “You know how to gut a man.”

  “I want to build you up, not break you down. You can’t solve a problem without removing the obstacle. For you, that’s your drinking. We need to rebuild your persona in the media.”

  “You want me to do photo-ops?”

  “No, nothing too drastic. It’s not like you’re not running for public office. But I have some ideas.”

  He turns his head, one eyebrow raised. “You going to share this master plan with me?”

  “Start with your old acting group,” I suggest. “That’s where you got your start in this business.”

  “You want me to start from the beginning?”

  I nod. “If you were an entrepreneur and lost everything, you would have to work your way up from the bottom. You wouldn’t get a free pass because you tried and failed.”

  “Is this some kind of psychological exercise? Making me feel like shit won’t brainwash me into reverting to my former self.”

  I shake my head. “No, not at all. Think of all the people’s lives you could touch just by showing up for an improv night. You’ll get free publicity from the group, and over time, it could help your image.”

  “Next, you’ll tell me to move into the shitty studio apartment I lived in when I was eighteen.”

  “When do you move out of your house?”

  “Tomorrow.”

  “Where are you going to live?”

  “Aaron’s house for a few days, I guess. He’s the only genuine friend I have left. No one else would let me crash.”

  “You don’t want to live with Aaron, do you?”

  He laughs. “Not really. His wife hates me. She doesn’t want me to drink at her house. When I’m there, I feel like I’m walking on eggshells. She follows me around like I will break something. It’s uncomfortable.”

  “You can stay with me,” I blurt out.

  What did I just do? What am I even saying?

  I can’t live with my client. If anyone were to find out, my career would be over before it’s began. Burke would have a damn stroke.

  Nico stops at the red light and glances over at me. He studies my face, and I feel like I will melt under his intense gaze.

  “You would do that for me?”

  I didn’t think he would be interested. And now, what do I say? He can sleep in Harley’s old bedroom.

  “Yes.”

  “Where do you live?”

  “In Holmby Hills.”

  “I dated a girl who lived there,” he says as he turns onto Wilshire. “She was a pain in my ass. High-maintenance and always wanted to come with me to Hollywood parties to meet people in the biz.” Nico clutches the steering wheel with one hand, checking his mirrors as he changes lanes.

  “It’s not my house,” I admit. “My friend owns the place.”

  “She won’t mind if I crash for a while?”

  “I have to call her.”

  Nico hits a button on the remote attached to his visor, and the doors to his mansion open inward, allowing him to drive onto the property.

  “This feels weird,” he whispers. “I’ve lived here for five years.”

  “My mom always says that one door closes so another can open. This might feel like the end of the world to you, but I promise we will turn this around. You’ll be back to living like the Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous in no time.”

  “I don’t care about the money,” he says without hesitation. “I never did this to get rich or famous.”

  “Going back to basics will be good for you. You’ll see. This is rock bottom, Nico. Don’t take it for granted.”

  * * *

  After I drive off Nico’s property, I call Harley, who answers on the third ring.

  “Hey,” Harley says. “You miss me yet?”

  I laugh. “You know, I do. I miss the shit out of your face. The house gives me the creeps when I’m alone.”

  “They’re settling creaks,” Harley says for what feels like the hundredth time.
“Just ignore them.”

  “How’s everything going in Philly?”

  “Nate has been so amazing since I got back. He’s making up for the time we were apart.”

  I groan. “Don’t rub it in that you’re getting more sex than me.”

  Harley chuckles. “I didn’t mean sex, but yeah, Nate is making up for that too.”

  “Lucky bitch,” I quip. “Now that I have Nico Chase as a client, I probably won’t have sex for another year.”

  “You knew he would be a challenge.”

  “Actually, Nico is the reason I’m calling. I mean, I wanted to talk to you and see how you’re doing, but I also have to ask you something.”

  “Shoot,” she says.

  “Nico needs a place to stay temporarily. I accidentally blurted out that he could live with me. I wasn’t thinking, babe. And I didn’t think he would even take me up on the offer. I told him I have to talk to you first.”

  “Nico Chase,” she says in disbelief. “Wait until I tell Nate I have a movie star living in my house. He’s a big fan of Nico. Think you can get him to sign something for him?”

  “Sure. So, you’re cool with this?”

  “As long as he doesn’t hurt you, I’m good. But if he pulls any of his shit, I’ll fly out there and kick his ass.”

  I laugh so hard a tear slides down my cheek. “And you’ll have my permission to do just that.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Nico

  I stare up at the mansion as I slam the trunk of my car closed. Even though I don’t own this place, it sure as hell felt like mine while I lived here. Checking my watch, I sigh when I realize I’m running late. I told Willow I would be at her house at noon, and I’m already proving I’m unreliable.

  I climb into the car and drive off the property, leaving my past behind. Holmby Hills is a quick drive from my old house in Beverly Hills. At least I don’t have to travel far. It surprised me when Willow said she lived in one of the most expensive neighborhoods in Los Angeles. Junior agents make little money, even those who work for a big agency like Brenton-Lake. And until she gets me a job, we’re both screwed.

  I park behind a beat-up Toyota in the driveway. Willow is waiting for me on the front steps, wearing black sunglasses that obscure most of her face. She’s dressed in jeans and a purple tank top, digging her elbows into her thighs as she watches me get out of my car.

  I move toward her, and she waves, a smile stretching the corners of her mouth.

  “When is the moving company coming?”

  “They’re not.”

  She gives me a confused look. “Then, how are you getting your stuff here?”

  “I have a few boxes in my car.”

  She attempts to get up from the steps, and I extend my hand to her. When her fingers slip between mine, a rush of electricity shoots up my arm. I release my grip on her, running my hand down my jeans to get rid of the strange feeling.

  “What about your furniture?”

  “The owner rented the house turnkey.”

  “What about books or pictures?”

  “I’m a minimalist,” I confess. “I only buy what I can carry. And I’m not a sentimental person.”

  “What kind of minimalist lives in a Beverly Hills mansion by themselves and owns three luxury cars?”

  She has me there.

  “I like cars and houses. I care little for personal possessions.”

  “How come?”

  I consider her question for a second and tell her something few people know. “When I was ten years old, my house caught on fire. We lost everything but the clothes on our backs. It taught me a valuable lesson.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “Material possessions are pointless. My parents didn’t have enough money to replace my video games and comic books, and I got along fine without them.”

  She gives me a mischievous look. “You read comic books?”

  “Why is that so hard to believe?”

  “You look more like the captain of the football team, not the president of the chess club.”

  I wiggle my eyebrows. “Looks can be deceiving.”

  Willow pushes open the front door and invites me inside.

  She leads me down a long hallway and stops in front of the second door on our right. “This is your room.”

  After I dump my boxes into the bedroom, I sit on the edge of the bed, wondering how the fuck I ended up here. I had one of the most promising careers in Hollywood until a few years ago.

  What went wrong?

  I had the house, the cars, the smoking hot actress girlfriend, millions of adoring fans, and studios throwing money at me left and right. And now, I’m living in a guest bedroom in my agent’s house. This is officially the dumbest thing I have done.

  Willow pops her head into my room, a smile in place. “I’m ordering pizza. You cool with that?”

  “Yeah, sounds good. I like pepperoni, extra cheese.”

  I close the distance between us, and Willow sucks in a deep breath. She feels that connection between us, palpable energy that hangs in the air, thick like fog.

  Willow is gorgeous, with a smoking body that could get me into trouble. She’s bossy and demanding, not afraid to call me out on my shit. I like that about her. She seems to know what she wants when I can barely get out of bed in the morning. And she’s the only person willing to risk their future to save mine.

  I can’t be the Nico everyone thinks I am.

  “Sit with me,” Willow says as she walks out of my bedroom. I catch up with her in the hallway, and she adds, “We can get to know each other better while we wait for the pizza. I want to know everything that makes Nico Chase tick.”

  I move into the living room and sit at the farthest end of the couch from her. I don’t want to open up to a stranger. My friends don’t even know the reasons for my slow decline. Some movies make a career, while others can destroy it.

  Willow crosses her legs, drawing my attention to the skirt riding up her long, lean thighs. Her fingers move across the keypad of her phone, and then she drops it onto the coffee table.

  “The pizza will be here within the hour. So, let’s chat. What projects do you want to pursue?”

  “I just want to work again,” I confess. “I miss acting.”

  “Start with your old theater group. It’s a step in the right direction.”

  I shove a hand through my messy hair that I hadn’t bothered to comb before moving out of my house. “This is humiliating.”

  She slides across the couch cushion, though, keeping her distance. “Everyone has to start somewhere.”

  “I already paid my dues.”

  “People in this town are harsh but not unforgiving. So, tell me something about yourself, something no one knows.”

  I narrow my eyes at her. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

  “When did you drink all the time?”

  “Before we wrapped on Twelve Steps.”

  “You took the role too far,” she hedges. “A lot of method actors go the distance for a character. But they rarely assume that role for years after the movie wraps. Is your drinking a problem we need to address?”

  I consider her question for a long, hard moment. Most mornings, I wake with the stale taste of scotch on my breath with a migraine pounding at the base of my skull. Do I have a problem?

  “No… I don’t know. I can stop drinking.”

  She sits up straight, her eyes on me. “Why do you drink?”

  “Because it tastes good.”

  She shakes her head. “No, the truth.”

  “To numb the pain of reality,” I confess. “Sometimes, out of boredom and habit.”

  “Starting today, you’re as sober as a monk. Think you can handle it?”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m in the middle of reading scripts with fantasy and superhero elements, some thrillers, and others action. It would help if I knew where you want to start.”

  “I’d love to be part of a supe
rhero franchise.”

  “Baby steps,” she countered. “We have a better chance of getting a meeting with a smaller studio. Sony, Disney, and the big names are out of the question for now. They wouldn’t even talk to Vinnie about you.”

  “What are my options?”

  “The meeting with Firehouse was a good start. If someone like Doug Cavanaugh will take a meeting with you, other studio execs will follow suit.”

  “You’re that confident?”

  “Nico,” she groans. “I know you’re used to hearing no. But you have to put the past behind you. We’re building something new together. Forget about how much money you made from previous movies. Ignore the media, the paparazzi, and all the assholes online.” She leans forward, moving her hand back and forth between us. “You and me, Nico. We’re both starting from scratch.”

  “Okay.” I sigh. “Everything is changing so fast. It’s fucking freaking me out.”

  “I can see that. This transition won’t be easy for either of us. But I want you to promise me one thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “When you go to that sombre place, where you tell yourself that you’re not good enough or unworthy, I need you to remember that I got you. We can do this together. But I need you to have my back.”

  “How?”

  “No drinking or partying. Go back to your acting group and get back into the groove while I handle the business side of things.”

  “Anything else?”

  “It would help if you read some scripts.”

  “I can do that.”

  My previous agent either read the scripts for me or had his assistant do it. Not until we’d had a firm meeting with a studio did I ever bother to read a screenplay. Back then, I only cared about the money because I tied the dollar figure to my ego. I was lazy in the past, too self-absorbed, and arrogant to see the error in my ways.

  “I pulled all the indie scripts.” She points her finger at the dining room, where she stacked the screenplays on the table. “You only have to nail one role, but we have to pick the right one. Remember, this is a slow climb, not a race to the finish line.”