Catch A Falling Superstar
Falling Superstar, Volume 1
J. Emily Steen
Published by J. Emily Steen, 2014.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
CATCH A FALLING SUPERSTAR
First edition. December 19, 2014.
Copyright © 2014 J. Emily Steen.
Written by J. Emily Steen.
Table of Contents
Title Page
Copyright Page
Prologue
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
Prologue
From the gossip section in Hollywood Week:
ARCHER ON THE HUNT AGAIN?
By Moira Zandt
This has us both mystified and excited. It's a leaked text convo between Archer Stratton (Last Ninja, The Quiller Memorandum) and Czech starlet Genevieve Bilka (Vixen, Guild of Thieves). If real, it looks like it was “leaked” from super hot Gen's phone, because she's the “Me” in this. And what's more, we're pretty sure it is real. But we can't tell you why we think so – their lawyers wouldn't like it.
Anyway, it's starting to look as if superstar heartthrob Archer is open to suggestions, after his seemingly self-imposed hiatus from the world of romance enters its seventh month.
Enough from us. Take a look:
Archer: u again
Me: hehehe, u remembered. I made an imperession on u
Archer: k
Me: how u doin these days? been very quiet ???
Archer: fine
Me: So I was wondering; do u want come over?? new house now, I need someone to help me break open the new pool ;) :)
Archer: is it frozen over
Me: No, I mean break open as in take the first dip and swim??? like, open it offizially ;)
Me: It's not frozen over its in california
Me: Too hot for water to freese here silly :) ;) hahahah
Archer: where
Me: It's 224 Bluejay Way in Hollywood Hills in Los Angeles city Calif. Pink house and pretty bog no one can c u swim in pool
Me: I mean prety big hahahah not bog
Me: So u want come? I need bath now Arhcie help me :( :(
Me: I will be skinny in the pool too u can too if u want ;) <3
Archer: girl, u're always skinny
Me: I mean skiny dipp in the new pool no swimsuit and like that
Me: I mean I be naked swimming ;) ;)
Me: Hahahaah yeh I'm skinny out of the pool too of course :) :D :)
Archer: k
Me: u will be comin now ?
Archer: k
Someone please tell these two young millionaires about the fancy new feature called “spell check” on their phones. But this whole exchange speaks for itself, right? Seems like they had a nice swim together, because we hear Archer not only turned up, but stayed the night, too.
And even if this fling with the European hottie doesn't pan out, how long can the brooding hunk take solitude before something has to give? We think he needs some lovin' right about now.
A falling star?
Because rumor has it that Archer's acting hit a serious slump after his legendary performance in Fists. Apparently, director Martin Moers had his hands full just trying to get Archie to do anything other than sleepwalk his way through mega budget movie The 9th Directive, which opens in two weeks. By coincidence (yeah, right), that was right after his stormy affair with Johanne Wilhelmsen (Saboteur, Kennedy Approach). We guess he needs a muse in his life to give his all.
It's even said that his tenure as super-secret agent Quiller in the already successful franchise is under threat if he doesn't shape up.
Is this superstar about to fall? We hope not, unless it's in love. All we know is that the mysterious movie icon has been away from the limelight for weeks now. Secret project or exile? We'll tell you when we know.
1
Have you ever met a famous person? I mean really famous, world famous, A-list famous, the kind of famous that journalists can't really come up with a word for, so they call him an icon?
The first time I met one, I didn't even recognize him.
I think we all have that dream, don't we? That we'll suddenly cross paths with a super famous guy, and that we'll act all cool and witty, and that he'll fall for us? I've had that daydream, plenty of times, about many different stars. But never about the one I met that morning in the alley outside the LuckyStop convenience store where I worked. I guess I didn't think he was my type before I met him.
I was emptying a trashcan into a dumpster, preparing to open the place at eight in the morning. It had been a pretty bad morning so far. I overslept, discovered that I was out of cereal and juice, could find no clean socks and when I was halfway to work, I noticed that my name tag was on my other work shirt. Well, I could live with not every stranger I would meet that day calling me by my first name like dear, old friends. But there were crash inspections by the region manager sometimes, and the manager of my branch was in some trouble with him already. Oh well.
I opened the padlock on the dumpster and tossed three trash bags in there. You'd be surprised how much trash is generated by even a small store like the LuckyStop, and how stinky it is.
I guess I was still sleepy, because I didn't notice him right away. Then I saw movement in the corner of my eye and peered into the alley, which was still pretty dark.
There was a someone there, his back turned as he tried to climb over something.
He looked like a hobo. And he sort of did behave like one, climbing on top of a heap of junk in the back of the alley, where the contractors who were renovating the house next door had dumped all the discarded building materials.
So I was alone in an alley with a guy who, for all I knew, could be a homeless criminal. I should have gone back inside and locked the door beside me. But what can I say, it was early in the morning, and all I could register was annoyance. That was sort of our alley. What was that guy doing there? It was not a good day to annoy me.
“Excuse me,” I said loudly, and probably a little angrily. “Can I help you?”
He turned around, very calmly. Well, at least he was not drunk as far as I could see.
I didn't recognize him at all. He was a man in his twenties, in baggy jeans and a dirty looking t-shirt under a leather jacked in the most unflattering shade of brown you ever saw. He seemed to be wearing makeup around his eyes, and he had a red splotch beside his nose, as if he had been in a fight. If so, I was pretty sure that he had lost it. But he didn't give off any other unsavory vibes. He had a good face, strong and rugged, I could see that.
“Oh, hi,” he said in a deep and very clear voice that sort of rang a bell in my mind. Where had I heard that before?
“Yes, you can, as it happens. Help me get a hold of him?”
He pointed to the far wall of the alley, where there was another heap of trash. There was movement there, a little dark shadow that scurried back and forth along the wall. It was at least twenty yards away from me, but I yelped and instinctively took a step back.
“No, it's okay!” the man said. “He won't hurt you. Probably.”
“Is that a tiger?!”
“No, it's not a tiger. He's an ocelot. His name is Alfredo. I'm not sure he knows that, though. He doesn't seem to react to it. Nice Alfredo, co
me to Archie.”
He made smacking noises with his mouth, and I guess that was supposed to lure the animal closer. He had a coiled-up leash in his hand.
“Now,” he said to me, “if you could just come a little closer to me, we can sort of gang up on him and close off his retreat...”
Nope. I was not going to move any closer to that wild animal, which sure did look like a little tiger to me. Or maybe a leopard. They have spots, right? I just stood halfway behind the open door into the store and peered around it.
The man climbed higher on the huge pile of construction junk. A length of plastic tube clattered hollowly down to the asphalt, followed by a small avalanche of old tiles and pieces of mortar as he placed his weight on them. But he was nimble, recovered his balance and kept climbing.
Then the animal decided it was bored of the back wall and shot towards the man like an missile, in easy, springy bounces. The man slipped on the trash he was standing on and almost lost his foothold, but was able to stay upright. The little leopard halted for a second, then jumped straight for me. I yelped and tried to pull back, but its speed was no match for me that early in the morning. It came very close very quickly, and then there was a confusion of sharp teeth and whiskers and yellow fur and some growling and claws and a rank, very catlike smell.
I yelped again. Okay, you got me: I squealed like a lady seeing a mouse in a 1950s sitcom.
By the end of it, the man stood there with the animal thrashing wildly in his arms, while he was furiously trying to attach the leash to the collar around its neck. A sharp click from the lock told me that he succeeded, and then he none too gently let the large cat down to the ground. It stood there, suddenly all calm, looking disinterestedly into the distance.
“Thanks,” the man said. “You were able to hold his attention just long enough.”
I wanted to say something with a little ice in it, but nothing came to mind before it was too late.
Because then I saw who he was. Actually, I thought, that guy sure sounds like Archer Stratton. And immediately after, I thought, and he looks like him too.
Then it clicked: It was him. I'm slow in the morning. Well, I'm always slow, some would say. But especially in the morning.
The world reeled a little, and it was as if I was standing beside myself. In an alley in my own little hometown. With Archer Stratton.
There was no doubt. I'd seen him many times before. In movie theaters and on television shows, I mean, never in the flesh, never as a living man standing in front of me, brushing down the front of his atrociously hideous outfit with a worried look on his face.
“Hmm. I hope they don't notice this,” he said to himself.
He was pretty tall, around six feet, I guessed. And his face was very... I want to say manly. There was no fashion model smooth perfection or soft, androgynous features. He had a strong chin and deep-set eyes. If he were to act in a fantasy epic, he would be a prince or a warrior, not an elf. This actor had reached the peaks of success not because he just had the looks, but because he had something else.
“That who notices what?” I ventured weakly after a minute, still trying to get a grip on myself. I was starting to feel light headed.
“The wardrobe lady is fierce. She puts a lot of work into every little detail. If I come back to set with one little thread out of place, she'll have a tantrum.”
I looked closer at his jacket. It had a little rend beside on of the buttons where the ocelot might have scratched it.
“So that's not supposed to be there?”
“I don't even know. But if it isn't, she'll tell me all about it.”
Alfredo stirred a little, angling his ears in different directions.
“So is that your pet?”
“Not really. I mean, in the movie he's my pet. But in real life he has another owner.”
“And you're walking him because...”
“See, the owner says that I have to bond with this thing, to get him to perform right on camera. Not that he performs that much anyway. So I walk him around the neighborhood every morning so he's used to me when we do scenes together. Which means that I have to get up an hour earlier.”
He didn't seem too happy.
“Not enjoying the ocelot experience?”
“Oh, Alfredo is great. I like him a lot. Except when he does things like this. Yes, you!”
He addressed that last part to Alfredo.
“Bad kitty! You look so innocent, but I know you're listening, because your ears are turning like crazy.”
They were. Alfredo's pointy, furry ears that seemed too big for his little head were rotating in their sockets while he was casually turning his head this way and that.
“I'll tell the ocelot guild all about this,” Archer said with mock seriousness. “I'll make sure you're never promoted to full leopard. You'll only be offered kitten roles, as long as I have any say in it. And you can just forget being typecast as a lion, like I know you want.”
I giggled a little, and he briefly glanced at me with a joking glint in his eye, then did a double take.
“Oh my gosh, did he scratch you?”
I looked down. And sure enough, I had two parallel scratches down my right forearm, and they were bleeding.
“I guess he did. I didn't even feel it.”
“Let me see.”
I held out my arm, and he gingerly took it and inspected the scratch.
“Well, you need a tetanus shot. Like, right away. I know just the place.”
“I can't go anywhere, I'm working!”
He looked me in the eye from very close. Those were some green eyes... and I could almost feel the heat from him. I almost swooned for a second. It was too unreal.
“Surely you have a shift supervisor or something?”
“Yes... but she may not see the point...”
He gently let go of my arm.
“Oh, she'll see the point. You just had a work-related accident. She has no choice. Don't worry, I'll talk to her. Go get her, please. I'll wait here. Better keep an eye on this here jungle monster.”
He had a point. I went inside to find Mabel. I actually liked her, and I wouldn't want to give her any trouble. I found her in the produce section, heaping a huge crate of kale onto a large, green pyramid of the same things. They were on sale.
“Mabel, I have to go get a tetanus shot.” I show her my arm.
She put the now empty crate down and looked at it.
“Damn, girl, what happened to you?”
“I was clawed by an ocelot.”
She looked at me with big, empty eyes. I could almost see the little gears churning in her mind. She'd probably also had a bad morning.
“You were... clawed? By a... a what?”
I suddenly saw the hopelessness of trying to explain.
“Look, you better come outside. You should see this.”
I led her towards the back door at the back of the store.
“What is it? Oh no, don't tell me it's another drunk passed out back there! I hate dealing with them.”
“It's not a drunk. Don't worry.”
When we got out into the alley, Archer stood there, and this time he looked more like a movie star than before. He'd taken his baseball hat off, and just as we came through the door he was pulling his hand through his dark blond hair in a gesture that was almost iconic and impossible to mistake. He also had his trademark smirk on his face. In spite of his unflattering clothes and the makeup he was still wearing, he looked a little more like you'd expect to see him on a poster. He held the leash behind his back, so that Alfredo was partly obscured behind his legs.
Mabel must have a better talent for recognizing faces than I do, because she froze in the doorway, and both her hands went up to her mouth reflexively with a sharp intake of breath.
“Hi,” Archer said, making absolutely sure to eradicate any doubt that he was exactly who she thought he was. That voice is hard to replicate, and it goes with the face.
“Oh my goooooooo
od!” Mabel gasped.
“Good morning, Mabel,” Archer said, reading her name tag and making it sound as if she was as well known to him as he was to her. He gave her a friendly smile, baring very white teeth that contrasted wonderfully with his lightly tanned skin.
Mabel looked at me and him alternately, drawing her breath in as if getting ready to scream.
“Is that... is that...?!”
“I'm Archer Stratton. Nice to meet you, Mabel. I'd come closer and shake your hand, but I think it's wiser if Alfredo stays at paw's length from both of you.”
He pointed to the ocelot, which was showing no interest in either Mabel or me.
Mabel's mouth was just one big O, as she looked at the little leopard-like animal and the super famous movie star in the alley behind her ordinary LuckyStop convenience store on a cool Thursday morning. I thought she might faint there and then. Thankfully she didn't. That would have given me all kinds of trouble.
“You can see that he gave your friend Blue Eyes a little sign of his... appreciation, I guess. She's not the only one.”
He pulled back the sleeve on his left arm and revealed a tanned and wiry forearm with a number of both old and fresh scratch marks on it. He took a little step closer to us and held it out to give us a good look.
I noticed something else, too. His famous tattoo with an intertwined A and S inside a heart was sort of there, but seemed much more faded and weak than in the pictures in the magazines. Had he had it removed?
“Yeah, he likes to... umm... to draw some lines on your skin. Only if he likes you. I think. It's a sort of body art.”
I gasped. “Oh my, he scratched you too?”
“No, no. Well, yes. He just wanted to get to know me. I actually got a tetanus shot before I met him, because the owner said that he was sure that Alfredo would scratch me sooner or later. As it turned out, it was sooner. Like six seconds into our first scene together. It made the scene much better and more believable, the director said. Me, I think he just likes to see me bleed.”
He looked down on Alfredo.
“Yes, you liked me from the start, didn't you? Just couldn't keep those claws away of me. Yeah, I do that to some people. But mostly girls.”
Catch A Falling Superstar: A New Adult Erotic Romance Page 1