by Maggie Marr
Chloe now stood beside Kiley. I didn’t hear what she said, but Kiley jerked her hand from Roberto’s hair and she swiveled toward Lane and me. She whispered to Roberto, who eyed us both. Then Kiley stalked over to us.
“Amanda, darling, I didn’t think Chanel was in your budget anymore?”
Anything Kiley did, and anything I said, would be fodder for the three clerks standing in the store and they’d give it to whatever gossip rag paid them to spill their stories. I wouldn’t be part of that.
“Kiley, lovely to see you,” I said. “Care to introduce us to your friend?” I looked over at the Italian model eyeing us from the other end of the store.
Kiley’s lips froze into a smile. “Who? Roberto? He’s in from Milan, visiting his brother. I’ve known him for ages.” Her fingertips fluttered through the air as though Roberto were no more than a wisp of wind. I knew better. I’d seen her wrapped around him like a boa wrapped around a water buffalo. Kiley was banging Roberto while my father was away.
Kiley leaned in closer. A mean smile slithered onto her face. “You know, I did want to talk to you about Ryan. Your father was none too pleased to hear you were seeing someone with such a difficult past.”
My heart dropped from my chest to my belly. A tingle pulsed in my fingertips and a loud roar started in my ears.
“Actually, I am working for Ryan during the summer,” I said.
“Hmm,” Kiley’s brows scrunched together. “Is that what the two of you are calling it? Work?”
To slap her right now would feel brilliant, but the immediate fallout wouldn’t be worth the instant gratification. My mother trained me better than to slap a woman while shopping on Rodeo Drive.
“Steve is very concerned that maybe your pill problem has gotten a bit out of hand.”
“She doesn’t have a pill problem,” Lane said. Her brow was tight and she clutched her bag as though trying to keep herself from hitting Kiley with it.
“Oh, riiiight, so the girl from Kansas has to stick up for you now.” Kiley’s gaze locked with mine. “I had really hoped you’d learn to stand up for yourself, Amanda. Instead of hiding behind your friends.” She leaned in close to my ear. “And screwing my leftovers.”
I wanted to throw up. Were there no limits to the lengths this woman would go to fabricate lies and continue in her self-serving ways?
Kiley turned and walked back toward Roberto. “Bye-bye my little stepdaughter. I’ll be certain to tell daddy-dearest I bumped into you and your little friend. I know you’ve had a tough time getting him on the phone. Funny, Steve answers whenever I call.” She fluttered her fingers at me, and she and Roberto scurried toward the back of the store. Lane scrambled in her bag and clicked a picture with her phone.
She looked at the screen. “Damn, too dark.”
I clutched the back of a black leather chair. My legs wobbled.
“Are you okay?” Lane asked, grabbing my arm.
Her hand flattened onto my back. I wasn’t okay. Heat coursed through my body. Why couldn’t I say something back? Why couldn’t I fight for myself and stand up for myself and say what I truly felt? Was I such a coward that I couldn’t fight?
“Fine, I’m okay,” I said. But I wasn’t fine. The hurtful things Kiley said made me realize that no matter how I tried to deny it, Ryan was locked with my family’s past. He had been drunk and had been attempting to screw my father’s bride on their wedding day. What did that say about Ryan, alcoholic or no? What did it say about me? Was I so willing to forgive that horrendous indiscretion to my family? To Daddy? Was I so overcome with lust that I forgot the havoc Ryan’s problems had wrecked on my life? If I blamed Kiley, I most certainly had to blame Ryan, too.
“Some water for you?” Chloe held out a crystal glass.
“Thank you,” I said.
“No offense,” Chloe said. “I know she’s part of your family but she’s a complete bitch. Always has been.”
I nodded my agreement and took long sips of my water. Bitch or not, Kiley was a Legend now.
Ryan
Adrenaline coursed through my body. My heartbeat pounded and blood rushed through me. I yanked the kettlebell up over my head then went back down to the floor. Workouts were getting easier. The tight aches and weakness in my body were fading but the scars along my arms were still fresh and pink. The scars would always be there, both the scars I could see and the scars I couldn’t. Sweat dripped down my temple. I couldn’t get drunk, but I could fucking chase the demons away with hard exercise.
“Hey, man.”
Dillon’s image reflected in the mirror. I jerked my chin toward him and finished my set. He’d been away in Vancouver for a few days, shooting.
“Seems like I haven't seen you in forever.” He jumped on the treadmill to warm up.
“That's what happens when you're a big action star,” I said. The corners of my mouth twitched up into a smile. “You’re gone all the time and even when you’re here you’re on set and no one but Lane sees you.”
He nodded. His feet pounded the treadmill. “You feeling good?”
“Better,” I said. I grabbed a towel and wiped the sweat from my face.
“You’re looking better,” he said. Old school AC/DC blared from the speakers. His pace quickened. We had the same trainer. A mean SOB who kept Dillon in shape and who was getting me back into condition. I sat on the rowing machine and began to pull.
“How’s the sober thing going?” Dillon asked. He’d finished his warm-up run and stood beside me with a kettlebell in his hand.
“Man, I won’t bullshit you,” I said between breaths. “Sometimes it’s easy, and other times it’s like fucking chewing nails.” I shook my head. “I haven’t figured out what causes either.”
“You’ll get it,” Dillon said. He walked back and stood in front of the mirror. He yanked the kettlebell upward. “How the hell did you convince Amanda to be your sober companion?” Dillon asked.
“She needed the job.”
“But after the wedding? And the shit from her father? She must seriously want that internship in New York City,” Dillon said.
I stopped rowing. Heat rose in my chest. I wasn’t the same guy I’d been at the wedding, and before the accident. The anger I felt right now wasn’t really meant for Dillon, the heat that pulsed through me was meant for me. Lately, anger had been a constant companion for me when I thought about what I’d done in my past, before I got sober. The fucked-up me had done some pretty shady shit that hurt a lot of people and now the sober me, the guy I was now, had to go around and apologize for all that bullshit and try to keep the drunk from ever reappearing.
As my memories from my past began to come back, the shit I’d done when I was drunk and stoned appalled me. But I was the same fucking guy. That could drive me nuts—the idea that I could have both people living in my brain. The crazed guy who did this crazy-ass shit and then me, this guy, the responsible guy who wanted to do everything right and make everything right for the people I loved.
“You think I should go see Steve Legend and apologize?” I asked.
Dillon stopped. He dropped the kettlebell to the floor. His eyes flashed in the mirror. “And say what?” he asked. “That is some serious shit you would be taking on.”
“Part of my program is about making amends. I have to apologize, I have to make it right. I fucked up Amanda’s life because she told her father the truth about something I did and I messed up his life by”—my belly clamped tight and a hot feeling wound though my chest. Shame crawled over my skin—“by being an asshole at his wedding.”
“Don’t you think Legend kind of knew what he was getting with Kiley?”
My lips twisted. “Maybe.”
“To be honest, I think they both wanted the attention. Maybe they have a thing for each other … but Kiley did all that shit with me for publicity, and then she was with Legend for the same thing. I think maybe Legend wants to appear young and relevant.” Dillon tossed a towel over his shoulder. “I don’t kn
ow man, seems like you are stepping into a real mess if you go to Legend and tell him that what Amanda said is the truth. What choice does he have then? He fucking has to divorce Kiley, right? And what does he say? My new wife likes fucking twenty-something guys, which I am definitely not? I mean fuck. It sucks to be him.”
“Yeah, I hear you,” I said. “What about Amanda?”
“Sucks to be her, too,” Dillon said. “But she’s getting out of L.A. She’s always wanted to leave. She hates the town and the industry and the actors.” A smile cracked over Dillon’s face. “She never would have agreed to babysit your ass if she wasn’t completely broke and desperate for money to get out of town.”
An ache formed behind my ribs. At the end of the summer Amanda was leaving for New York. She hated everything that I wanted—the career, the California lifestyle, the network of friends I had. Plus Dr. Dwyer had just reminded me that I needed to get a year of sobriety underneath me before getting involved with anyone. Thinking about all of that, I knew that being with Amanda was not an option for me.
But I wanted her. My day had started by holding her hand—her soft skin beneath my fingertips. Then a kiss.
Even with all the reasons why I couldn’t have her and shouldn’t have her, I still wanted her. I looked at my reflection in the mirror. You can’t have her. I had to keep repeating that over and over and over again. I had to begin to believe it.
Chapter 17
Ryan
Silence thickened the air in the car. For two days we’d avoided the obvious conversation and it hadn’t been just me. I knew there was some ugly stuff going on with Amanda—Lane had told me about seeing Kiley at the Chanel store on Rodeo Drive. Where to start the conversation? How to start the conversation? We had avoided long looks and any conversation other than a quick joke. Our days were busy—on set for ten hours, then therapy, then NA/AA meeting, piss test, and then finally a workout. We’d get back to Dillon and Lane’s exhausted, and would just fall into bed. But not together.
My cock stirred. The idea of falling into bed with Amanda caused a thrill of heat to pulse up my spine and harden my dick.
“Amanda, we need to talk,” I said, finally breaking the ice.
“I know.” A sigh escaped her lips. The sun hovered just above the horizon. Another day of sobriety nearly complete. Amanda made a quick left beside a park and pulled into a shaded spot. A hint of pink crept up her neck. She turned to me but I couldn’t see her eyes through her sunglasses. She turned off the car, but her hands still clasped the steering wheel and her knuckles whitened.
“Let’s take a walk,” I said.
Her shoulders relaxed with my words. We got out of the car and stood side by side and looked out at the park. She wore a tiny sundress and the hem fluttered in the breeze. My eyes roamed over her legs. The breeze intensified for a moment and it swept through the trees, and the leaves rustled overhead. She pulled her hair behind her ear. My chest tightened. Her beauty stole my breath and my cock hardened. Standing here, in a park, fully clothed, my body wanted her. I wanted her so badly that I’d take her here and now if I could. Instead I clasped her fingertips into mine and we started around the white-pebbled runner’s path.
“So, the other night …,” she said. Her words drifted away. Amanda didn’t usually talk about difficult things. It wasn’t her way. This conversation between the two of us wouldn’t be easy for her or for me. I stopped walking and faced her. I grasped her shoulders and her skin heated my palms.
“I need a year,” I said.
“I know.” She slipped her sunglasses up and rested them on the top of her head. Her blue eyes pierced into mine. Her face … her face just killed me.
“I’ve made more mistakes than any man has a right to, but no matter what any therapist or any twelve-step program says, kissing you was definitely not one of them.”
A smile flirted with the corners of her mouth. My heart pulsed and warmth tingled through my belly. I wanted to make her smile. I wanted to make her laugh. I wanted to see the wide, beautiful, effortless smile I’d seen on her face at Gayle’s. Now and forever. I wanted to be the guy who would permanently place that smile on her beautiful face. She worried a leaf in her hand and then that smile slipped from her mouth. Her gaze met mine.
“I …,” a sigh slipped across her lips, “I think maybe you should find a different sober companion.”
My heart cracked. If I couldn’t have Amanda the way I wanted Amanda, at least I could be with her, sit next to her, watch her. Sure, being beside her all the time would be tough and hard as hell, but having Amanda near me, even just until the end of summer, was better than not having her near me at all.
I reached my hand to hers and clasped her fingers through mine. That one touch set off a spark that burst into a flame in my belly. How, in such a short time, had Amanda come to mean so much to me? She was constantly in my head.
“Amanda, please, I don’t—”
“I have feelings for you,” she blurted out. “I don’t want to be the reason you lose your sobriety. You’re working so hard. Finding someone else to be your sober companion might be the best thing for you.”
“You are the best thing for me.” The corners of my mouth crept up into a smile.
“What’s so funny? You think this is funny?”
“No.” I pulled her toward me and encircled her in my arms. Warmth streamed through me. Contentment. The demons that clawed my mind couldn’t reach me when Amanda was in my arms. Her hair was soft under my fingertips as I brushed loose bits from her beautiful face. “You having feelings for me isn’t funny,” I said. “You having feelings for me is a fucking miracle.” The pupils of her eyes grew, eating up the blue.
“I have feelings for you, too.” I settled my chin on the top of her head. We stood there, my arms wrapped around her body. Both of us knew we couldn’t, we shouldn’t, do anything about our feelings, but they were still there.
“So what do we do?” Amanda finally asked.
“Please don’t leave,” I said. I clasped both her hands in mine. “I need you. You make me stronger, not weaker. The way you smile. The way you laugh. When you tell it like it really is instead of hiding behind all that trained Legend diplomacy. Please, Amanda, don’t go.”
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “You’re working so hard and I don’t want you to relapse, to be the reason that—”
“That I fail?” How many of my friends were worried that I couldn’t do this—that I couldn’t remain sober? “I’m committed,” I said. “I’m working my program. I know where I am. You are a good thing for me. Not a bad thing. I can’t believe that something that makes me feel this good—when I look at you, when I touch you, when you smile at me—I can’t believe that you’re bad for me. Because you’re not. Besides, it’s your job to help me stay sober.”
“I’m leaving once the film is finished,” she said. “That hasn’t changed.”
My heart ached. “I know.”
“Won’t that be bad? Won’t my moving make things harder for you?”
“You know what they say in AA?”
Amanda shook her head.
“They say you take one day at a time. One hour at a time. One minute at a time if you have to. Right now, I want to spend every minute, every hour, every day with you. I want to be next to you, beside you, going to set with you. Having you watch me pee in a cup. I want all of it with you.”
She bent her head forward. A smile pushed away the serious lines around her eyes.
“We can only be friends,” Amanda said. “We have to try and not do anything like what happened the other night.”
“If you’ll stay, and you won’t make me find a different sober companion then sure, I’ll try.”
I would have agreed to anything Amanda asked. I needed her with me. There was a calmness, a stillness that happened when she was near me. She chased away the tumult and anxiety that crashed through my body. Maybe it was her smile, or her walk, or her laugh, but whatever the hell it
was Amanda had it, and whatever Amanda had was more powerful than any drug I’d ever tried. Dr. Dwyer was right, I had traded one addiction for another. I was now addicted to Amanda Legend.
Amanda
I scrolled through the pages of The Exuberance of Prosperity that were on the call sheet for tomorrow. While it wasn’t part of a sober companion’s job description, the past couple days I’d run lines with Ryan. I’d done the same thing with Daddy for years after my mom died. Even when I left for college, I’d come home and run lines with Daddy. When Ryan finished his workout and showered, we’d settle in and go through the pages for tomorrow. With a vision of a sweaty Ryan, heat coiled thick and hard in my belly. A tingle pulsed between my legs.
I wanted Ryan. I couldn’t have him, but I wanted him. The mental gymnastics necessary to allow Ryan and me to be together were hard. First there was the wedding, then his new sobriety, plus I could only guess at what Daddy would say if he ever found out about the feelings I had for Ryan. Throw in me needing to leave for New York at the end of summer and not wanting to be involved with anyone in the film industry and you had a recipe for disaster. Disaster for both of us, but especially for Ryan and his sobriety.
My phone rang and I picked it up from my desk in my room and flipped it over. Restricted. The call had to be from Sterling.
I accepted the call. “About time big brother, it’s been days since I heard from you.”
There was a long pause. Perhaps we were disconnected? Perhaps he’d pocket dialed.
“Doll?”
My fingers trembled at hearing the rough voice and my bottom lip quivered.
“Daddy?” I whispered. “Daddy, is that you?”
“How you doin’, Doll?”
There were a million different ways I could answer my father’s question, and yet I knew there was only one acceptable way—the Legend Way. “Good, Daddy,” I said. “I’m good. But I miss you.”
“Nothing to miss sweetheart, just an old bastard down here trying to make a film.” He paused. He cleared his throat. “You brother asked me to call.”