by Piper Rayne
The Manny
The Dirty Truth Series
Piper Rayne
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
© 2017 by Piper Rayne
All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.
Cover design: RBA Designs
Line Editor: RJ Locksley
Proof Reader: Shawna Gavas, Behind The Writer
ISBN: 978-1-987925-24-1
Dedication
To all the step parents making a difference.
Contents
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The Manny
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Epilogue
Sexy Beast Excerpt
Cockamamie Unicorn Ramblings
About the Author
Also by Piper Rayne
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Secrets and lies are a killer way to start any partnership—especially a horizontal one.
Now, I’m a glass half full kinda of guy, so, after the ‘you’re fired’ speech was directed at me, I figure now’s the time to be the screenwriter I came to sunny California to be. Unfortunately, there are about as many people trying to sell a script in L.A. as there are vegans in the pacific northwest.
But lucky for me, a few weeks ago my agent found an investor for my script. Hooray, all my problems are solved! NOT.
Because the investor will only agree to fund my film if I use one specific actress. And that one specific actress? Well of course, it just has to be the same actress I screwed over only months before. But she doesn’t need to know about that one tiny detail, does she? All that matters is getting her to agree to do the film and I’ll do whatever it takes. We can leave the past, in the past, right?
I thought my charm would win her over. Never would I have been prepared for the terms she laid out on the table.
She needed a nanny.
I needed a lead actress.
Somehow I became The Manny.
Chapter 1
Vance
The wheels of the jet land on LAX’s runway and anxiety causes my heart to pulsate in an unsteady rhythm. Escaping to my hometown was a nice vacation from reality, but now that I’ve returned to the City of Angels, who I used to be in this town is at the forefront of my mind.
Heading back to Climax Cove was a spur-of-the-moment decision. And by that, I mean I packed a bag within five minutes and hightailed it to the airport, paying way too fucking much money for a one-way ticket. Money an unemployed thirty-something guy shouldn’t spend, even if I was rolling in it up until I was fired. I was very successful by anyone’s standards, yes—but it’s not like I was an A-list actor pulling in eight figures a year.
I pull my phone out, strapping my only piece of luggage, my backpack, to my back, and dial up my buddy Jagger on the way to arrivals.
No answer.
Typical.
Crossing my fingers that he didn’t just land some hot piece of ass and forget to pick me up at the airport, I head through baggage claim and out the automatic doors, taking a brief glance up at the dark sky with an absence of stars.
The tall oak trees have been replaced by palm trees, the tranquil scene of the evergreen mountains in the distance has vanished, leaving me with smog-filled air and a shit-ton of bustling people surrounding me.
My footsteps stop when I spot Jagger sitting on his expensive Harley Davidson motorcycle talking to a female police officer who’s probably supposed to be directing traffic, but instead is giggling at something he’s said.
He touches her shoulder and her hand leaves her holster to cover her laugh. I guess it only takes one flirtatious comment from Jagger Kale and someone has an opportunity to strip her of her weapon.
I make my approach and her hand moves to her gun as she eyes me from the corner of her vision. So, I underestimated her. Her attention causes Jagger to turn his head in my direction, his usual smirk splashed across his lips.
“Hey, man.” He pops the kickstand out on the bike and hops off, circling around toward me and sticking his hand out for me to shake.
The police officer still has her eyes on me and I get that I might look a little less put together from my time in Climax Cove, but I still look like I belong in L.A.
I shake Jagger’s hand at the same time as I shake my head.
His smirk deepens, continuing our non-verbal conversation. Me saying he’s an idiot for flirting with a cop and him saying, Look at her tits, how can I not?
Our hands part and I stand there like a third wheel as she texts him her phone number.
“Make sure you use it,” she says in what I guess is her best cop voice. It’s so authoritative that my gaze and my mind flickers to her handcuffs, wondering how well she uses them.
Jagger winks at her, most likely thinking the same as me. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I never forget to call.”
The cop looks at me and I lower my raised eyebrows. Jagger’s not a total manwhore, he just enjoys the single life to the fullest. At least he stays away from his clients… his very elite list of clients. He’s a top talent agent in the industry and his list is filled with top-grade tits and ass, but in all the time I’ve known him he’s never crossed the line with any of them.
I admire the cop’s physique as her ass sways with her belt around her midsection while she walks back into the middle of the roadway to direct the non-stop rotation of cars.
“Seriously?”
“What?” Jagger holds his hands up, a small smirk on his face. Yeah, he knows exactly what I’m questioning.
“Let’s ignore the fact that your flirting caused the cars be parked four deep and she didn’t seem to care as long as she was in the running to suck you off.”
He chuckles, glancing over his shoulder at the line-up of cars parked, waiting for their loved ones.
“And we’ll ignore that you’re parked in the limo and cab lane.”
He looks around innocently like the plethora of posted signs aren’t visible.
“What I can’t ignore is the fact I’m standing here looking at your motorcycle.”
His chuckle morphs into a full-out laugh. “Hey, I brought you a helmet.” He pulls one out of his side satchel. The hot pink one he makes girls wear when he takes them for a ride along the coast—Jagger’s form of foreplay, from what I can tell.
“Jagger.” I sigh. “Seriously, man, where’s the Aston Martin?”
He straddles his bike, positioning his helmet over his head, and kicks the stand, ready to ride. “It’s at my place in Malibu. I’ve spent the last few nights at my condo in the city. No chance I was driving all the way back to get my car.”
I shake my head in annoyance and stand there in disbelief that he wants my dick pressed to his ass while we inchworm our way through L.A. traffic.
“Stop the drama and hop on. You not secure enough in your manhood to ride bitch?” He hands over the helmet and I bite back a curse while I straddle the bike and click on the
helmet, all while trying to keep my dick as far away from him as possible.
The motorcycle roars to life and I grab the sissy bar behind me, using all my strength to prevent my ass from sliding forward toward him.
Jagger does what Jagger does best, going no holds barred as we head through the Sepulveda Boulevard Tunnel.
What feels like hours but really is only forty-five minutes later, I jump off his bike, thankful to be able to put some space between me and my friend.
“Thanks,” I mumble, climbing the stairs to my second-floor condo.
“Whoa, hold up.”
The loud pipes silence and the stand of his bike echoes in the dark night.
“I’m tired and I want to get some sleep.” I make the excuse before giving him a chance to say anything.
I reach the first landing, now only a few doors away from escape, but Jagger’s footsteps are quickening on the cement behind me.
“What? I give you a ride home and you don’t even ask me in for a drink?” he asks and laughs.
“I don’t even know what I have.”
“No worries, I’ll run down to Leo’s if need be.”
Leo’s our friend, who lives on the first floor of my building.
“I’m not in the mood.” I try the excuse again.
“Oh, come on. We need to talk about how you ran back home to Mommy.”
I stop at the top of the stairs and narrow my eyes. “Yeah, that’s not going to happen. Might as well call the cop from earlier.”
He chuckles, walking backwards past me toward condo number two hundred and seven.
“Don’t do it,” I warn.
He raises his knuckles to the door.
“Jagger, seriously, give me a day and then we can talk.”
He motions to knock and I shake my head, walking over to my own condo door. “I’ll just lock you out.”
There’s no point in rushing. Leo, the owner of condo two hundred and seven, has a key. A key he’s been using the past six weeks to water my one plant and check up on things.
The loud knock of Jagger’s fist on the door bounces down the open hallway as I insert my own key into the lock of my condo. And then it’s the sound of Cooper, Leo’s dog, barking and running toward the door. I can already picture his paws skidding to a stop, waiting for Leo to catch up, his tail wagging with impatience as he waits for his owner to open the door for their guest.
“Jesus,” Jagger says.
I laugh, knowing exactly what just happened. Cooper jumped up and licked his face.
“Can’t you put him through obedience training or something?” Jagger asks.
I shake my head and open my door.
“He’s been twice. He just loves you, man.” Leo’s voice sounds out.
And then a door shuts and two sets of footsteps walk closer to the stairs along with four galloping ones that snake their way into my condo without an invitation.
I’m knocked down on the couch, Cooper on my back and his tongue on my neck.
“Relax, Coop,” I say, planting my hand on my neck to push him away.
“Cooper!” Leo’s authoritative voice rings out and Cooper listens, moving off my back, but sitting down next to me, drool falling from his panting tongue onto my floor.
Jagger moves to the kitchen, opening the fridge and shutting it quickly, plugging his nose. “Fuck, that’s rancid.”
“I probably should’ve cleaned that out for you.” Leo shrugs, patting Cooper on the head as he sits next to him by the chair.
“That’s all right. Listen, guys, great to see you, but I gotta crash.”
Jagger sits in the chair opposite me, showing no signs of leaving.
I purposely stand, because staying seated would be an invitation to stay, which they’re not. Invited, I mean.
“That’s the polite way of saying ‘get the fuck out,’” I continue when neither of them lifts their ass from my furniture.
Jagger’s gaze shifts to the couch and back to me and back to the couch.
“One question,” I warn and sit down, propping my feet on the coffee table in front of me.
“What are you going to do now?” Leo asks.
I give the guy props—he hasn’t asked me once where I went or why.
“I’m going to make my script into a movie.”
Jagger winces, shaking his head. Both have read my script. They know the years I took perfecting it and how much I’ve wanted to put it out there, but how scared I’ve been.
“Are you sure? I mean after…” Jagger trails off.
“I’m sure. I went back home and the one thing I realized is fear is for cowards. I’m not a coward. I wasn’t one when I left Climax Cove to start a new life here and I’m not one now.”
The sad part was I had to learn that I needed to grow a set from my sister. She’s always been so ballsy and take-charge, go after what you want. It was easy to forget being so far away from her all this time.
“Good for you.” Leo, the cheerleader of our group, nods with encouragement.
“It’s going to be hard, but if you want my help, I’m here.” Jagger slides his ass up on the chair, resting his elbows on his knees. “You thinking of selling it to a studio or going the independent route?”
“Independent. We know I have the chops to the produce the thing and I want the freedom that’ll bring. A studio will just fuck it up to make it more commercial,” I say.
Jagger nods and I can tell he’s in business mode. His jaw is set and the deep-set line between his brows is on fully display. “We need to find an investor first.”
“I’d love your help.”
Leo and I stare at him. He pulls out his phone, already scrolling through his contacts. “My dad mentioned someone looking to take on a new project a month or so back. Give me a few weeks and let me see if I can put something together.”
He stands and steps over Leo’s legs and Cooper, who’s now sprawled out on my living room floor. “Get some rest,” he says over his shoulder. Jagger’s phone is already planted to his ear before he leaves the condo. “Hey, Dad. Remember that investor you mentioned…” His conversation trails into silence as the door shuts behind him.
“Let’s go, Coop.” Leo nudges his dog with his foot and Cooper slowly wobbles onto his legs and prances toward the door. “We’ll catch up tomorrow.” He raises his hand in the air and disappears behind the door, too.
If I’d known it was that easy to get my two buddies out of my condo, I would’ve tried that ages ago.
Chapter 2
Vance
I grab my vibrating phone off the nightstand and roll over, bringing it to my ear. “Yeah?” My voice is groggy and raw from the early-morning wake-up call.
“You know jet lag isn’t a thing when you’ve only been to Oregon, don’t you?”
Jagger.
“Who do I have to pay not to hear your voice for twenty-four hours?” I sit up in my bed, the sheet falling to my waist.
“You’ve been home for weeks. Besides, I wouldn’t be so pissy. I’ve got great news.”
“What time is it?” I scrunch my eyes and rub a hand over them before glancing over to the clock on the cable box.
Does it really say eleven? Where the hell did the morning go?
“Let’s just say, McDonald’s breakfast is over.”
Like health nut Jagger has ever eaten a Big Mac.
“What’s this news you speak of?”
“I found someone interested in investing.”
I bolt up, swinging my legs over the side of my bed. “Yeah?”
Jagger’s reputation is for putting deals together that seem impossible at the outset, and he’s always been one to work fast, but this has to be a record, even for him.
“Finally up, huh? Say, ‘Thank you, Jagger, for working your magic.’” He chuckles and I hear his assistant paging him over the intercom in his office. “Give me two, Vic.”
“Give me some details. Who is it?”
“Not until you say, ‘Thank you,
Jagger.’” He chuckles with amusement I’m used to by now. The man takes nothing too seriously. Actually, strike that. He’s only serious about two things—money and his career.
“Thank you, Jagger. Now can I have the details?”
“Sure thing,” his assistant, Victoria, says in the background through his office phone. “But he’s threatening to hang up if you don’t have time for him.”
“I’m talking to Vance. Hold up.”
“Tell Vance hello,” Victoria says.
“I say hello in return.” I have no idea how this turned into a game of telephone.
“You can tell her yourself when you pick me up for lunch this afternoon.” Jagger pauses.
“Lunch?”
“Yeah, get all prettied up because you owe me big time for this one. See you at one.”
The line goes dead and I place my phone on the bed, running my hands down my face.
If I wasn’t positive he did indeed work his usual magic in the two weeks since I gave him the go-ahead on my script, I’d stand him up, but the man has me by my balls and he knows it.
At one o’clock that afternoon, I drag my ass into Jagger’s office.
“Hey, Victoria.” I wave, bypassing her sparse desk. “Props on not getting too comfortable.”
She rolls her eyes and nods. As soon as Jagger finds another assistant she’ll go back to her usual job of running the office. Victoria is the only person Jagger trusts to fill in when he’s between assistants—which is often—but she refuses to work for him directly, knowing how demanding he can be. I can only assume he keeps her around because she’s good at what she does.