Broken Glamour

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Broken Glamour Page 8

by Maggie Marr


  “You know, if you’re Ryan’s sober companion for the summer you can go to New York even without your Dad’s help. Isn’t that what you’ve always wanted?”

  I nodded.

  “Not that I want you to go,” Lane added. “I want you to stay here with me in L.A., but all you’ve talked about since we met is getting out of Los Angeles, and away from the film business and now here’s your chance.”

  Lane was right. Here was my chance to get away from the step-bitch and all the unhappy memories I had here in Los Angeles. The memories of my mother and our family before Mom died. Memories that I couldn’t seem to escape no matter how old I got.

  Lane stood and looked at me. “Did you ever tell Ryan about…?” She let her words drift off, but the question lingered in the air.

  My gaze locked with Lane’s. She had both eyebrows raised and she was staring right at me.

  “Him and Kiley?” I asked.

  Lane nodded.

  “No,” I said. “Do you think I should?”

  Lane bit her bottom lip. “I mean, if he asks”—she shrugged her shoulders— “maybe?”

  “I kind of don’t see the point,” I said. “Won’t it just muddy the whole damn thing, especially if I’m working for him?”

  “Working for me?” The deep voice barreled through the room. A tingle shot through me from my toes to my fingertips. The pack raced toward him. I turned. Ryan stood in the doorway. He was shirtless and sweat dripped down his face and over his muscles.

  Heat churned within me and a deep tingle started in my toes and worked up over my body, licking between my thighs, as his eyes stared into mine. Why the hell did I have to see him shirtless every damn day?

  I couldn’t be attracted to Ryan. I’d never been attracted to him before rehab, so why now? My eyes skimmed over the scars on his arms and chest. Maybe my attraction was because now, after rehab, his eyes sparkled with light and his smile was quick and genuine. His skin was fresh and, even though I knew he was filled with anxiety, he looked every bit the calm confident sexy man that he could be someday, if he worked his program. His eyes always locked with mine a split second too long. And his gaze held some sort of promise. A thrill. Something that might happen between us.

  “Does that mean you’re taking the job?” he asked.

  He now stood beside me, and my body heated from his nearness. My gaze caught on his hands. Big. Strong. Hands. I could almost feel those hands on my body. I pulled my bottom lip under my teeth. What would those hands feel like sliding up and down my ribs, pulling at my shirt, on my thigh …?

  “Amanda?” Lane’s questioning voice jolted me back to reality. The heat of a blush warmed my neck and cheeks.

  “Sorry, right.” His eyes, those green eyes. “Yes,” I said. I took a long breath of air and filled my lungs. “I’m going to be your sober companion while you work on The Exuberance of Prosperity.”

  Ryan smiled. “Great. Rides and a constant companion. Just what I wanted. I’ll let Webber know.”

  He regarded the now nearly empty bar. A cloud of emotion passed over his face and his brows pulled tight. “Seriously, you don’t have to do that for me.” His body tensed and he placed his hands on his hips. His gaze bounced from me to Lane. “It’s not like I’m going to sneak down here and steal booze.” His tone was hard, but yet a hint of hurt slipped along the edges.

  Lane’s eyes widened from Ryan’s reaction. I knew my best friend didn’t want to hurt Ryan; in fact, she’d hoped to do just the opposite.

  “We want to be supportive,” Lane said. “I thought it might be easier. I wanted to show you that”—she glanced over at the bar and the boxes and the bottle of Jack Daniel's on the bar—“that we believe in you.”

  “By boxing up the liquor? That shows me that you believe in me?” Ryan rifled his hand through his hair.

  “No, I guess not, now that I think about it,” Lane said.

  Lane did everything to be nice to everyone. She rarely had a bad thought about anyone, and negativity just wasn’t her nature.

  “You’re being an ass,” I said.

  Ryan’s gaze whipped toward me and he narrowed his eyes.

  “You know she doesn’t think you’re going to come down here and steal the liquor, and you know that Lane does everything to be supportive of everyone. You’re embarrassed, so you’re taking it out on her.” I looked straight at him. I might get fired in the first four minutes of my job. “She is doing something kind—trying to be supportive. There is no judgment here. So don’t be an ass.”

  Lane’s jaw dropped open and Ryan stared at me. His squinted eyes went from me to Lane and then another smile broke over his face.

  “Wow,” Ryan said. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard Amanda Legend tell it like it is.”

  Ryan’s words were pathetic, yet true. Aside from tiny moments, I generally didn’t share my unrestrained thoughts on any subject with anyone. I’d been trained, my entire life, not to do that. Plus, the consequences usually weren’t good.

  Ryan tilted his chin and his gaze went from me to Lane. “I’m sorry, Lane. Amanda’s right. I know your intentions are good and I am embarrassed, but thank you. Thank you for being so supportive of me and my sobriety. I just wish”—he glanced at the bar—“I just wish I had more days stacked up and you didn’t need to do this.”

  Lane reached out and gently grasped Ryan’s arm. “You will,” she said. Her voice was soft, but contained a knowing, a belief, that what she said was true.

  Ryan turned away from Lane and looked at me. He took three steps forward. He stood just in front of me, in my space. Heat curled between us. Heat that neither of us could ignore. He didn’t touch me, he didn’t have to. Just his nearness, his presence helped me deal with my own problems. I was still battered, but getting better every day. I never would have imagined that Ryan—the Ryan I had written off not that long ago as a pathetic, entitled, alcoholic, bad-boy actor—was standing so close to me, creating desire in me.

  How quickly things could change.

  My breath shortened and I stared into his chest. I … it was hard for me to tilt my head up and meet his gaze. The room dropped away. The dogs were gone, the bar was gone, Lane was gone and it was just Ryan. Ryan stood before me with his chest inches from my face.

  “You, Amanda Legend,” Ryan said, “are sexy as hell when you speak your mind. Don’t let anyone tell you different.”

  My heart ka-thwapped against my ribs. Tingles shot up my arms and heat pooled in my belly and caught between my legs. Ryan, this drop-dead sexy man, telling me that I should speak my mind no matter what was freeing and empowering. The idea that he actually found my unvarnished truth sexy made my toes curl.

  “Thank you,” I said. I didn’t stammer. I didn’t stutter or feel intimidated by these feelings that coursed through me. Yes, I was surprised by my attraction to Ryan and I didn’t want to be attracted to him. These feelings could complicate the summer, but I had them and I wouldn’t let them cow me into submission.

  Our gazes locked and for the briefest second I thought he might reach out and pull my lips to his. For the briefest second I hoped he would. Instead Ryan took two steps back, away from me and toward the door.

  “I have NA in an hour. We need to leave in twenty.” Ryan bolted up the stairs.

  I couldn’t get my heart rate under control.

  Lane came back in the room and cleared her throat. “Looks like your job could get pretty interesting,” she said.

  Chapter 11

  Ryan

  “Congratulations, man, that’s sixty days.” Russell, my sponsor, handed me my medallion. I was never so proud of a cheap piece of metal in my life.

  “Thanks, man.” I clasped the gold-colored disk in my palm. My anxiety was beginning to subside. Now when I was anxious I ran, or I worked out. I’d found something other than the booze to keep me sane.

  “How is everything else going?”

  Outside the open door, Amanda waited for me in the car. She’d been c
arting my ass around Hollywood for a couple weeks. I looked at him. Russell was the guy I could talk to about anything. The guy who would help me stay on the road to sobriety.

  “There’s this girl,” I said.

  “Sixty days can be a long time.”

  “Yeah,” I pulled my hand over my jaw. “But she’s not … with her, it’s not just that.” My words drifted to silence. My gaze connected with Russell’s. “It’s more than just that.”

  “I get what you’re saying. So, this girl, she in the program?”

  “No, she’s kind of a friend. I’ve known her for a while.”

  “You need to be a year sober before you get involved.”

  A breath rattled through my chest. “I don’t think I can wait that long. She’s meant to move to New York and these feelings…. They’re just … they’re overwhelming sometimes.”

  “Here’s the thing, man, don’t risk your sobriety for anyone. If this thing is meant to happen between the two of you, it’ll happen when it’s time. A relationship is an intense thing. Especially the first one after you’re sober. The feelings are complex, and they’re feelings that we used to dull with drugs and liquor. You have to be strong enough to face those feelings without the drugs or the booze. You need some days behind you before you can conquer that next hill.”

  My head understood what Russell said. Each word made sense to my brain, but my heart? My heart continued to beat fast for Amanda.

  “I get it,” I said.

  “Ryan, your words are telling me one story, but your eyes are telling me another.” Russell shook his head. “I can respect that you’re attracted to this girl, I really can. But you’ve got to respect your program and do what needs to be done. Don’t risk it, man. Your sobriety is not worth the risk.”

  Nothing was worth losing my sobriety, I knew that to be true. Even with working out and NA and AA meetings, and the upcoming film and the piss tests, I still had to work my program to stay sober. I worked my program so hard and with such intensity. I was proud of the medallion I held in my hand. I felt I’d earned it.

  I turned toward the door. Amanda stood just inside, looking for me in the room crowded with people. She wore a short flouncy skirt and a breezy top. Her pretty little tits perked under it. Her black hair hung in waves below her shoulder. She pulled her sunglasses from her face and her blue eyes pierced through the room and met mine.

  My heart jolted against my ribs and a tingle fluttered inside my belly. My cock hardened.

  “That is one tall drink of water,” Russell said.

  “Yeah,” I said. “She’s my dilemma.”

  Russell’s gaze locked with mine. “That’s the girl?”

  I nodded.

  “You have got to get yourself the hell away from her. How can you survive that for another ten months?”

  “She’s leaves for New York at the end of the summer.”

  “She feel the same way as you?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. I couldn’t touch Amanda with my hands, but I could most definitely soak up every ounce of her skin with my eyes. “After all the shit she knows I did when I was drunk? It’s hard for me to believe she’d want me.”

  Amanda finally found me in the crowd. A slow smile slipped over her face.

  “Oh, hell no,” Russell said. “That girl does not hate you. You see how she looks at you. Damn, man, I can feel it from over here.”

  Amanda was beyond beautiful. She was unbelievable. Heat curled from my toes and up my legs. My gaze darted around the room. Every guy in the place was looking at her.

  Heat spread out from my chest and tingled down my arms and legs. Not anger, but need, a deep desire to make certain that no one had Amanda but me.

  I shook my head. I was crazy. Amanda wasn’t mine. I could look, but I couldn’t touch. Even if I could touch, I couldn’t imagine that Amanda would want a bastard like me.

  “Ready?” she asked.

  Her big blue eyes hit me like a hammer to my chest. My breath stalled. How did she walk around the planet looking like that?

  “See you, Russell.” I waved and he jerked his head toward me and tossed a smile toward Amanda.

  “Tomorrow, man,” Russell said.

  When we got to the car I opened Amanda’s door. Her lips formed a smile. She looked surprised. Hell, I was surprised. I couldn’t remember ever opening a door for a girl, but I wanted to open Amanda’s for her.

  “Thanks,” she said.

  I slid into the passenger seat. “Hungry?”

  “Sure,” Amanda said. She turned the key. “Where to?”

  “You like burgers?”

  Amanda cocked an eyebrow and a slow smile ate up her face. A slow smile that could make an iceberg melt. A slow smile that tore at my heart and made me want to reach across the car and yank her to me and cover that smile with my lips.

  I was so fucked.

  “Have you been talking to Lane?” Amanda asked.

  “Nope. Just feel like a burger and fries.”

  “Just tell me where.” Amanda pulled into traffic. I gave her directions to my favorite place and fought the urge to reach out and touch her hand.

  Amanda

  “My burger has an egg on it,” I said, surprised.

  “I know,” Ryan said. He placed the bun on top of the giant burger. “Wait until you taste it.”

  The gastropub at the corner of Hazeltine and Ventura was packed. The Valley. Ryan made me drive him to the Valley for a burger. But, after my first bite, I understood the long drive. This burger was perfect. Awesome. Amazing. Heaven. The Local Peasant burger, with the egg on top, melted in my mouth.

  “You love it, right?”

  Not many people knew about my secret burger addiction. “I do.”

  There would be extra miles to be run tomorrow from this meal, but it was totally worth it.

  “How was your meeting?”

  “Good.” Ryan shoved a giant fry into his mouth.

  “Who was the guy you were talking to?”

  “My sponsor. I got something today.” He slipped his hand into his pocket. He set a gold coin onto the table.

  “Sixty days sober,” Ryan said. He didn’t smile.

  I expected him to be happier. This was a big deal. Instead he stared at the coin and then looked up and stared at me.

  “Congratulations.”

  I picked up the coin and examined the triangle on one side and then slid the coin across the table to him. Our fingertips touched and heat crashed through me. I couldn’t seem to quell that fire. I jerked my hand away, grasped my napkin, and slid it over my lips. I would ignore the tingles that pulsed through me. Ryan settled back into his chair.

  “Have you talked to your dad?” he asked.

  “Not that my relationship with my father is any of your business,” I said. “But, no.”

  The corner of his mouth twitched up into a smile with my words.

  “Why are you grinning at me?”

  “I like it when you speak your mind. Really let people know how you feel. You’re sexy as hell when you do it.”

  Heat flamed through my neck and face. Sexy as hell. Ryan had just told me I was sexy as hell. A tingle pulsed between my legs.

  “Do you want me to talk to your dad?”

  A punch in the gut. “What?” I choked out. “Why would I want you to talk to Daddy?”

  “To tell him how you’re helping me and that whatever he thinks you did couldn’t possibly be true.”

  I pressed my lips tight. This wasn’t a time when I should be honest and spill the truth.

  “Make sure you’re not anywhere near his antique rifle collection when you do that,” I said. I swiped my napkin over my mouth. The burger was good, but suddenly I wasn’t hungry.

  “Seriously, why not? Let me do this for you. Let me try to help you clean up this mess.”

  The knot in my chest tightened. He had no clue that this mess was originally created by him.

  “Thanks,” I said. “But I want to handle th
is one myself. There’s a way we Legends deal with things.”

  “I’ve noticed,” Ryan said. “But I still have to talk to your dad when he gets back from the Amazon.”

  “Why?” I asked around the lump in my throat.

  “I have to make amends,” Ryan said.

  “Amends?”

  “Fourth step. I have to apologize to everyone I’ve ever wronged while drunk or high.”

  My heart sped up. “How have you wronged my father?” I asked. Did Ryan know what he’d done with Kiley? Was his memory coming back? A tightness gripped my belly.

  “I was plowed on a couple films he produced with your brother. I know they had to stop filming early one day because of me. I need to apologize.”

  The muscles in my neck and back relaxed. He didn’t know. Why was I so worried about him finding out? Why did I care? Did I think if he knew that he was part of the reason for my banishment that he’d feel badly, or be upset enough to risk his sobriety? Why was I trying to protect him?

  Ryan folded his napkin and settled the linen beside his plate. He looked over at the bar and the fifteen beer taps that lined the wall. “It’s particularly tough to make amends when you don’t even remember who you fucked over when you were drunk.”

  “Is any of it coming back to you?” I asked. My voice was softer now. No person liked to act stupid and Ryan had been doing drunk and stupid in front of all of Hollywood for years.

  “Yeah,” he said. He scrubbed his fingers through his mop of hair. “Yeah, it is.” He shook his head. “Most of those memories aren’t very pretty.”

  A shiver raced up my spine. I’d heard some of the rumors. The hard-partying lifestyle that Ryan inhabited for the year before his car crash. A lot of it sounded unreal with the girls, the blow, the parties, the booze—I suppose it was a Hollywood lifestyle that a lot of people longed for. Not me. I grew up watching that lifestyle destroy friends, parents of friends—my parents’ marriage. I couldn’t have the booze and the blow and the parties in my life. I looked at Ryan. I hoped that he didn’t want the drugs and booze in his life any longer, either.

 

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