by Maggie Marr
“I do know everyone in town, and that seems to be the problem.”
I tilted my head. I didn’t get what she was saying. I was missing a giant piece of this puzzle.
“Kiley has indicated that if anyone gives me a job for the summer she will sling whatever mud she can at them.”
“Wow,” I said.
“I almost had a job reading scripts for some people that love me regardless of whether the world’s currently biggest star likes me or not. But …”
“But what?”
“But Kiley found out about it and put the kibosh on that.” Amanda’s gaze flicked away from me. She stroked the top of Bernie’s head. “She had me escorted off the Worldwide lot today.”
“Won’t your Dad be pissed?”
Again, a thought, a comment, flashed on Amanda’s face. Again, she sealed the words away.
“I’m not sure,” she whispered and her voice cracked. “That’s why—” She closed her eyes and took a long breath that jerked through her chest. She opened her eyes and had sudden clarity and focus. “That’s part of the reason why I’m so upset. I’m not sure whether my father will be angry or not.”
“He’s a good guy,” I said. “I can’t imagine he’d be down with Kiley treating you this way.”
Bernie loped to me and pushed his nose against my leg. I settled my hand on his head and his thick fur was soft and warm beneath my fingertips.
“My dad...” Amanda said. “My dad is a complicated man. He’s in love with Kiley, or he thinks that he is, for now. So whatever Kiley wants or Kiley says or Kiley thinks … well, those things become what my father wants or says or thinks, at least for a while. Don’t forget” —she looked at me through her lashes— “I’ve been down this road of newlywed bliss three times with my father since my mother died. Kiley is his fourth wife in eight years.”
I hadn’t considered how many times Amanda had watched her father marry another woman and then kick another to the curb. How many times she stood by waiting for his love, his attention, his respect and never getting it because he was too busy lavishing all the attention on the next woman he meant to marry.
Yeah, maybe Steve Legend wasn’t such a great guy.
“I just want to get out of L.A.,” Amanda said. She sighed. “I want to start my life. My life in the art world. My life in New York. My life. I don’t want to be Steve Legend’s daughter who happens to have his latest wife pissed off at her.”
“Right,” I said. I reached out, I couldn’t stop myself. The tickle of Amanda’s thick black hair skimmed over my fingers as I brushed her hair off her face and tucked it behind her ear. Her eyes widened. Silence shimmered around us. My heart thundered in my chest—both of us surprised by my intimate touch.
“Oh my God! What is Mr. Hot-thing-in-a-towel doing practically pawing Ms. Amanda Legend?”
Amanda and I jerked apart like two teenagers who’d been caught having a make-out session in their parents’ basement.
“Choo!” Amanda said and bounced to her feet. A giant smile burst across her face and for the first time in my life I was jealous of a gay man.
Choo grabbed Amanda and wrapped his arms around her. “Girl, you cannot let that bitch bring you down, okay?” He angled his chin down toward Amanda. His hair shot out of his head in odd angles. His smile was infectious. His gaze shot from Amanda to me.
“And look at you, Mr. Sinclair, in a towel with all those new and sexy scars?”
I stood. Choo’s eyes wandered up and down my body. I wasn’t used to exposing the angry pink lines that now crisscrossed my arms. The doctors said they would eventually thin and fade, but it might take years. I was, however, used to Dillon’s little brother, Choo. He was loud, proud, and could be loads of fun. He leaned toward me. “Good to see you clean and getting healthy.” His voice was lower and contained some serious emotion.
“Ryan.” Lane had trailed Choo into the room. “I just got a call from Dillon and he wants me and Choo to run these Dodgers’ tickets to set. ”
“No problem,” I said. "I’d planned on using Uber." I hated not being able to drive. I was most likely going to have to hire a driver myself. I skirted around Choo and headed toward the hall. I was certain that Choo and Amanda and Lane had a ton of gossip to exchange.
“I can drive you,” Amanda said.
I turned toward Amanda’s voice. A thrill pulsed deep in my back. My eyes wandered over to Amanda, who was now standing.
Amanda glanced over at Lane. “Can I borrow your Jeep again? I mean, I have to go to Century City and I could drop Ryan off on my way.”
Choo and Lane exchanged a look that I did my best to ignore.
“Okay by me,” Lane said.
“Thanks,” I said. “Thirty minutes?”
Amanda nodded. I pretended that the heat stirring between my legs had nothing to do with Amanda and I walked across the rec room and out the door.
Chapter 9
Amanda
I sat outside in the L.A. sun with my mocha latte. Well-heeled, fresh-faced college graduates traipsed in and out of Coffee Bean, wallets in hand. They all emerged, not long after, with carriers loaded with coffee. They headed across the patio toward CTA, which was filled with hundreds of entertainment agents in need of caffeine. I pressed my straw through the ice of my mocha.
I didn’t have a real reason to go to Century City. I’d surprised myself when I blurted out that I’d drive Ryan to CTA, but I wanted to drive him. I wanted to be in the same car with him. I wanted to listen to him talk, to hear his voice, to take my mind off the problems in my own life. He had surprised me by telling me something that I already knew: Doing the right thing can be hard. I’d known that all along, so why had I expected that telling Daddy the truth about Kiley would end up sunshine and roses? I was being a big-ass baby.
Melancholy, chased by hints of happiness, tumbled through my chest. Warmth spread outward from my heart and slipped down my arms. Ryan had made me feel better today. What he’d said clicked with me. Doing the right thing was hard. I knew that, but when he stopped and said it, and then related it back to his sobriety, my mind had clicked. I did the right thing when it came to Daddy and Kiley and, if by doing the right thing, I had to pay a price, then I would pay it. Ryan’s words made sense and they made me feel better.
I remembered seeing the fresh scars that tracked along Ryan’s chest and arms. Those angry red marks made what had happened to Ryan all too real. He’d nearly lost his life because of his bad choices, and the scars must be a reminder that he continued to pay for his sobriety. Daddy had struggled with booze. When I was a teenager he’d clutched Diet Cokes and run to AA meetings in some church basement or community room—some days he’d be gone for hours.
My phone rang. “Restricted” flashed across the screen. It was Sterling again. We’d been cut off five minutes into our conversation. For a satellite phone that was supposed to work everywhere the service was crap.
“Hey,” I said.
“Okay, sorry about that,” Sterling said.
The static was thick. Sterling sounded as if he was stuck in a deep hole.
“You were saying?”
“Kiley had me escorted off the Worldwide lot by studio security.”
“What?” Sterling’s voice came across the thousands of miles loud on that word. “Shit, Amanda, that stinks.”
“It was humiliating,” I said. Even though I didn’t want to work in the family business, I still didn’t want to be labeled as an addict. Plus, every person in every bungalow knew who I was. I was Steve Legend’s daughter, Amanda. So they were totally watching and talking when I got booted by security. My heart burned while the humiliation climbed through my body a second time.
“She’s really doing me in. I lost my summer internship. No money. No credit cards. No place to live—”
“I thought you were staying at my place?”
“You mean the place Dad owns? Kiley had the locks changed. I’m staying with Lane and Dillon.”
“Shit,” Sterling said. “I’ve got some cash you can have but I have to get a hold of my business manager, the one dad doesn’t know about. We’re down here for a while. Will you be okay? Can you be okay?”
I nodded. Big tears filled my eyes. I wanted my big brother to come home and save me from the evil queen, Kiley Kepner. But this was real life, not a fairy tale.
“I’ll be fine,” I said. “I’ve got a place to stay and Lane and Dillon.” And Ryan a little voice whispered through my mind.
“They’re calling me to set,” Sterling said. “I’ll talk to Dad and see if I can’t figure out what’s up from this end. I’ll call you in a couple days.”
“Okay,” I said. “Thank you. Be careful. Love you.” And with that my big brother was gone. Swallowed whole by the Amazon. He was very far away. I missed him. I even missed Daddy. Just because he had foul taste in wives, my mom excluded, didn’t mean I didn’t still love him.
Ryan
“Here’s the thing,” Webber said. His shoes rested on his desk and he leaned back in his chair. He tossed an autographed World Series baseball up into the air. “The producers want you for the film.”
The corners of my mouth pulled upward into a smile. I wanted to work. After reading The Exuberance of Prosperity, I knew work was going to help me remain grounded in my sobriety.
“For the lead?”
Webber caught the baseball and paused. “Actually, they want you for the second lead.”
Damn, I’d messed up my career.
“Got it,” I said. Playing second lead in an indie that paid SAG scale plus ten percent wasn’t what I wanted, but I did want the role and I needed the job.
“You’ve got to work your way back in, prove yourself,” Webber said.
“I know, I know,” I said. I ran my hand through my hair. “Fine. Let them know I’ll do it. I’m in.”
“Awesome,” Webber said. “I think this one is a perfect way to rehabilitate your career.”
Rehabilitate my career? Rehabilitate seemed to be the buzzword of the last few months.
“There’s just one more thing.” Webber held the baseball in his hand and he looked around the room before looking at me.
“Don’t tell me. They’re worried about my sobriety,” I said. I tilted the bottle of water up and took a long pull.
“Yes,” Webber said. He flipped his feet off the desk and stood. He came toward the couch where I sat and plopped into the chair opposite me. “But, they want you and will meet my ask.”
“Which was?”
“Pretty fucking high for an indie,” Webber said.
“Which means, pretty fucking low compared to my quote,” I said.
“Right, but guy, come on, this role, this film, this is how we get you back on top. You go. You kick ass. You prove to the Industry that you’ve still got it and that you are on it, man, completely fucking sober and ready to rock and then the offers come flying in!”
“Right,” I said. My chest tightened. Webber made the whole damn thing sound easy, so why was I so anxious? “So what do they want? Me to piss into a cup every week?”
Webber bit his bottom lip and let his gaze flicker to the ceiling. “Yes, aaand,” he said, dragging out the word as though that would lessen the impact, “to get you bonded for the film they need you to have a sober companion.”
“A babysitter?” I said. I bit out the word. Someone trailing me around like one of Lane and Dillon’s rescued pups?
“They want the sober companion with you for prep and for principal. Once you get to post you’re on your own.”
“Great,” I said. I brushed my hand over my jaw. “Who?” I asked.
“We choose,” Webber said. He stood and walked back to his desk. “I got a list. My colleagues have worked with these people. Any one of them will do.”
“Who pays?” I asked. Webber walked back to me and I took the list from Webber.
“They’ve built it into the budget. Not a bad gig if you can get it. Like a thousand a day. Take a look at the names and let me know who you want. We’re supposed to get back to the producers with a name by the end of the week.”
Irritation yanked at my gut and squeezed. I walked to the door. “Thanks,” I said. I’d be much happier when I was back on top.
*
Amanda waited for me in front of CTA. I climbed into the Jeep. “Could you drop me at a meeting?” A raw feeling churned in my gut from my encounter at CTA. I wasn’t dealing well with the idea of a sober companion, or rebuilding my career, or a fucking indie where I was the second lead. I scrolled down on my phone. “There’s one fifteen minutes from the house. If you drop me there I can walk back to Lane and Dillon’s after.”
“You’re a regular full-time job,” Amanda teased. She pulled out of the oval drive in front of CTA.
A quiver shot through my belly with her words. My eyes traveled over Amanda’s profile. She was the perfect solution. I didn’t want a stranger traipsing around with me wherever I went. But Amanda? Amanda Legend? She’d grown up in the Industry. She understood a film set. Hell, we were already sharing the same house.
“Isn’t that what you need?”
“What?” She pulled to a stop at a red light and turned on the right turn signal.
“This,” I said and held up the sheet of paper that Webber had handed me in his office. “This is a list of sober companions. I have to hire a stranger to take me to set, live with me, and stay with me all the time so that I can do this little indie film where I’m not even the lead.”
Amanda remained silent. The heat pounded in my chest and into my arms and I realized anger was vibrating off me.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. The office buildings of Century City flew by my passenger window. I turned back toward Amanda. “To get the film bonded I have to have a sober companion. Why don’t you be my sober companion for the film?”
“Me?” Amanda whipped her head around and that long thick gorgeous black hair flew the other direction. I wanted to grab that hair, tug that hair, let that hair flicker across my skin.
“You need a job. I need a companion. No one else will hire you. The job lasts for like forty-five days and you’ll make a shitload of money.”
“What’s a shitload?”
“Enough to get you to New York City,” I said. “I’ll even throw in an extra five hundred a week for driving my ass.” I looked down the list of names that I held. “I don’t think most sober companions are drivers, too.”
Amanda chewed on her bottom lip. She was considering it. The gig was a good one for her, and for me.
“We already have to live together this summer. So why not you get paid for rooming in the same house with me?”
“What else?” she asked.
“What else what?”
“What else does the job of sober companion include?”
“Fuck if I know. Look it up. You probably have to get my ass to my AA meetings, which you’re already doing right now. Make sure I don’t get drunk or get high. Get me to set and get my ass to therapy.” I let my eyes flicker over her body. “I don’t think you have to bathe me or hold the cup when I piss.”
A hint of pink flickered up over Amanda’s neck with my words. I just did the impossible. I made Amanda Legend blush.
“I need to think about it,” Amanda said.
“Well, think fast,” I said. “Webber has to give the producers the name of my sober companion by the end of the week and if you won’t do it I have to pick someone from this list.” I waved the piece of paper at her. “Like I want some stranger following me around.” I locked my gaze to hers. The car pulled to a stop in front of a church.
“Amanda, it would mean a lot to me. Give it some thought.” I opened the car door. I had a meeting to go to and Amanda had a decision to make.
Chapter 10
Amanda
Four days after Ryan offered me a job I stood beside the giant ornate bar in Lane and Dillon’s house. I needed to give Ryan an answer about being his sober comp
anion, and I needed to tell him today. I wanted the job, but could I work around the heat that was building between us? Could I work for him when I knew what he’d done with Kiley? Did I want to?
“Being Ryan’s sober companion isn’t a horrible idea,” Lane said. She pulled a bottle of tequila from the shelf behind the bar and set it into a box. “You two are already living here for the summer, plus you need a job and he prefers someone he knows.”
I stood on the other side of the bar with my arms crossed over my chest and watched Lane clear off the liquor from the shelves. I’d spent four nights sleeping on the idea of working for Ryan. My head told me it was a logical way to earn some big bucks so that I could go to New York in the fall, but my heart said this was a damned dangerous situation. I couldn’t ignore or explain the currents of attraction that had jetted through me the last couple days when Ryan was near me. I wanted to believe that these feelings were an anomaly, some weird reaction to being rejected and banished by my family, or fouled by Kiley. But I wasn’t sure any of those reasons were true. I followed Lane’s gaze as she looked around what could only be called a man cave.
“I’m thinking after the wedding maybe I’ll remodel this whole room.”
“Why wait that long?” I asked. The room was all leather and dark wood with a pool table and arcade games and a giant bar, plus signed Lakers and Dodgers jerseys framed on the walls. “We might as well be standing in a sports bar,” I said.
“It doesn’t smell as bad as a sports bar,” Lane said, placing a giant bottle of Stoli into the box.
“Thanks to Mathilde it does not smell like a sports bar.” I heard the sound of the dogs out in the hall. “A kennel maybe,” I mumbled.
“Stop, it does not.” Lane walked out from behind the bar and kneeled down. The pooches wanted some attention. All but Bernie. He walked up beside me and nudged my hand with his nose, demanding that I pet him.
“He loves you,” Lane said.
I rolled my gaze toward the ceiling but then peered down and smiled at Bernie. It was good to be loved, even if it was by a guy who had four legs and needed a shave.