Breaking Hollywood

by Samantha Towle

  “I’m a fucking grown-ass man. I don’t need you to worry about me, and I definitely don’t need a goddamn babysitter.” He looks at me when he says that last part.

  Babysitter? Asshole.

  Also, I’m trying not to feel too insulted that Gabe’s first response to my offer was, “No way.”

  Sure, I know we argue, but I’m not a bad person. I’m actually a good person to have around. And I kind of got the impression that he liked arguing with me. Clearly, I was wrong.

  “I’m not suggesting I babysit you.” I frown down at him. “I’m just offering to help you out when you need it. I’ve got some free time at the moment”—thanks to being fired—“so it’s not a problem.”

  “Sounds perfect,” Tate says.

  The elevator reaches the first floor. The doors open.

  “Sounds like hell,” Gabe mutters as Tate starts to push him out of the elevator.

  I rear back at his words. “What did you just say?” My body is bristling, as I know full well what he said, but I want to hear him say it again, so I can tell him that he can go fuck himself and that my offer is officially rescinded.

  That was mean and uncalled for. I was trying to do something nice, but then he had to go and say that. I’m actually hurt.

  I wait for Gabe to respond, but Tate speaks before Gabe does, “He said it sounds like heaven. Didn’t you, Gabe?”

  Gabe swivels his head to look at Tate. I see Tate frown at him and then flick his eyes in my direction.

  “You know what? Forget it. I heard what he said.”

  I get Gabe’s car keys from my bag and toss them at him. He catches them.

  “Sorry that I broke your foot, and I’ll pay for the parking ticket. It was really nice to meet you, Tate. Wish I could say the same thing about you, Gabe, but it wasn’t.”

  I turn on my heel and head for the stairs. The last thing I want to do is get back in that damn elevator again.

  And, now my eyes are stinging with tears, which is stupid. I don’t even know why I’m upset.

  I guess it’s just been a butthole of a day, and it’s only going to be worse tomorrow when I have no home.

  God, my life sucks monkey balls.

  I always try to stay positive, but life is really testing my positivity at the moment.

  I push open the door to the stairwell.

  “Speedy.”

  The sound of Gabe’s deep voice stops me.

  I glance at him over my shoulder. Whatever he sees on my face makes him wince.

  He’s alone. Tate’s not with him. He must have wheeled himself over here.

  “What do you want?” I let go of the door and turn to face him.

  “That was an asshole thing to say. I don’t know why I said it…except that I’m an asshole.”

  “Yeah, you are.”

  “And…I’m…sorry.” It sounds painful for him to say.

  Of course I’m going to milk it. “Can you say that again? I didn’t quite hear you. And wait while I get my phone out, so I can get this on camera.”

  “Ha. Very funny. Don’t push your luck, Speedy.”

  I smile, and so does he. Then, silence falls between us.

  “It was a really shitty thing to say.” My words are quiet.

  “I know.” He sighs. “I just have a hard time with accepting help. I don’t like to feel useless. I took that out on you. I shouldn’t have.”

  I meet his eyes. “You’re forgiven.”

  His eyes smile back at me. “So…”

  “So, what?”

  He scratches his cheek, looking uncomfortable. “Well, if the offer’s still there…I’d really like to take you up on it.”

  “Oh, I don’t know…”

  “Please, Speedy. If you don’t, Tate’s gonna hire some scary-ass nurse called Big Bertha to come and take care of me.”

  I laugh.

  “I’m not kidding. He just threatened me with it. And, apparently, she’s mean as hell.”

  That makes me laugh harder. “I don’t know, Gabe. I think Big Bertha is just the punishment you deserve for being an asshole.”

  “Please, Speedy.” He grabs my hand, his gorgeous brown eyes pleading up at me. “I need you.”

  Well, if that doesn’t get me, nothing will. My heartbeat has tripled in time. And he’s still holding my hand, and my skin is on fire.

  But I play it cool. “Fine”—I sigh—“I’ll come take care of you. It’s not like I have anything better to do right now anyway.”

  He smiles. “You’re awesome.”

  “I know. Now, come on, let’s go get your foot sorted, so we can get you home.”

  Ava

  Gabe lives in West Hollywood, so we’re actually heading back in the direction of where I left my car, which I’ll need to pick up later.

  He directs me to his apartment building, and he tells me to park his car in one of his two allotted spaces in the underground parking lot.

  I help him out of the car, and he allows me to, which is a miracle in itself. He’s been a lot more cordial since his apology earlier. We’ve still bickered, of course. It would be weird if we didn’t.

  I hand him his crutches, and we head for the elevator.

  He’s got a boot on, which goes up to just below his knee. It seems a little extreme to me for a broken foot, but I guess the doctor knows best.

  And Tate wants him to keep his weight off his foot for the next few weeks, so no walking on it—hence, the crutches.

  He looks kind of funny and not just because of the boot and crutches. But Tate had to cut off the leg of his pants, so the boot could be fitted. So, he has one leg of his pants cut above the knee while the other is still long.

  We go inside the building and step into a huge lobby area to reach the elevators.

  Gabe lifts his hand in greeting at the older man behind the security desk. “Hey, Harry.”

  The man stands and comes around the desk. “Evening, Mr. Evans. What on earth happened to your leg?”

  “Oh, she broke my foot.” He jerks his head at me.

  For the love of God, I wish he’d stop telling people that! Even if it is true.

  The security man’s eyes briefly come to me, and then a smile appears on his face. “Did you deserve it though?” he asks Gabe.

  Gabe laughs. “Yeah, probably.”

  “Thought so.” Harry chuckles. “You need me to do anything for you?”

  “No, I’m good. Speedy’s going to be taking care of me for a few days. So, you’ll see her coming and going.”

  “Shall I add her to the approved list?”

  “Sure.”

  “My name’s Ava, not Speedy,” I tell Harry.

  “Ava. Got it. Good to meet you, Miss Ava.”

  “You, too.” I smile. “And Ava’s just fine.”

  The elevator pings its arrival, and the doors open.

  “Catch you later, Harry,” Gabe says.

  “Bye, Harry.”

  Once we’re inside the elevator, Gabe puts a key in the control panel, turns it, and then presses the button for the penthouse.

  Figures.

  We ride up in silence, and I have a sudden bout of nerves.

  I’m going to Gabriel Evans’s apartment.

  Gabriel Evans!

  I keep forgetting just who I’m with when I’m arguing with him. He just seems like this normal, regular guy.

  He is a normal guy, dummy.

  Who just happens to be adored by millions.

  Me included.

  And, now, I’m heading up to his apartment.

  It feels a little more than surreal.

  And, when the elevator doors open into his apartment, I’m reminded once again of exactly just who he is.

  And not just because of the framed posters of some of his movies that hang in the huge foyer, but—

  Holy shit, this place is amazing.

  It’s a movie star’s home.

  “Wow,” I say to him. “Your home is beautiful.”

  I wal
k into the living space, which is the size of my whole apartment. It’s wall-to-wall windows, and I can see all of Hollywood from here. Dusk is just setting in. I bet it looks stunning at night when the city is all lit up.

  I walk over to the window. “You have a terrace and a pool?” I turn to face him.

  “Yeah.”

  He empties his pants pocket of his cell, wallet, the key he just used in the elevator, and his hip flask, which I’m pretty sure must be empty from the way he was drinking it on the way back. Honestly, if I drank that much liquor, I’d be flat on my back right now. I’ve always been a lightweight.

  He tosses his stuff onto the wooden coffee table in front of him, which looks like it probably cost more than my car.

  Then, he sits down on the massive white leather sofa that faces the view, putting his foot up onto the footstool. He sets his crutches next to him. “I’m just gonna sit a minute, and then I’ll show you around.”

  “No need. You sit and relax. I’ll show myself around. I can snoop better if you’re not tailing me.”

  I grin, and he chuckles.

  “Have at it.” He rests his head against the back of the sofa.

  “You need me to get you anything?” I ask, walking over to him.

  “Nah, I’m fine. Just gonna rest a sec.” He closes his eyes.

  I look at his face. His full lips are pressed together. Enviably long lashes sweep his high cheekbones. His hair is all mussed up.

  Lord, he’s pretty.

  “Speedy, are you staring at me?”

  I almost jump out of my skin. Busted.

  “No! Of course I’m not,” I squeak. I step away, my heels suddenly sounding a lot louder on the marble floor.

  He chuckles darkly.

  I’m glad his eyes are still closed, as my face is flaming.

  “Right, I’m going to look around. Be back in a few.” I drop my bag on the floor by the sofa.

  “Don’t go looking in my underwear drawer, Speedy.”

  “Why? What’s in there?”

  He pops open one eye. “My underwear.”

  “Funny.” I stick my tongue out at him and then head for the door on the other side of the room.

  “You’re gonna look now to see if there is actually anything else in there, aren’t you?”

  “Of course I am.”

  His laughter follows me as I walk through the door and into a hallway.

  I discover a sublime, large kitchen that looks like it’s never been used and a utility room. Two bedrooms, both with en suite bathrooms. I guess which bedroom is Gabe’s right away. Aside from the fact that there are dirty clothes tossed on the chaise, it has framed movie posters of Raging Bull, Taxi Driver, and all The Godfather films up on the wall. And there’s a photograph of him with Robert De Niro.

  Must be a De Niro fan.

  There’s also a framed picture of him and Tate on his nightstand. No picture of his parents though.

  And there’s a Stephen King novel with a pair of reading glasses next to it.

  It somehow seems sweet that he wears glasses for reading.

  His bathroom is gorgeous. It has one of those freestanding claw tubs and a walk-in shower with one of those massive showerheads.

  I salivate at the thought of using both. My soon-to-be ex-apartment only has a shower, and the water pressure sucks.

  Also, there’s an office and a home gym.

  I manage not to go snooping through drawers and cupboards even though the temptation is great, and when my self-tour is done, I go back into the living area.

  “That dildo and lube in your nightstand are for personal use, right?” I tease as I walk over to him.

  I know he’s sleeping right away. Not only because I didn’t get a rise out of him, but his mouth his slack, and an unlit cigarette is dangling from it.

  He must have been exhausted if he fell asleep before he could even light his cigarette.

  He looks so adorable. I’m tempted to snap a picture, but that would be super creepy.

  I gently remove the cigarette from his mouth and the lighter from his open palm. I put the cigarette back in the pack, which is on the sofa beside him.

  God knows where he got that pack of cigarettes. He probably has boxes stashed all over his apartment. He’d need to with the way he smokes.

  I leave them next to him in case he wants a smoke when he wakes up.

  I grab a blanket off the other sofa and lay it over him, covering him up.

  Then, I head to the kitchen, thinking I’ll cook some food, ready for when he wakes up.

  Only I open the fridge, and it’s empty, except for bottled water, beer, and what looks to be an old carton of Chinese food.

  I try the freezer and get vodka and ice cream.

  I look in the cupboards, and they’re bare, except for chips, cookies, and peanut butter.

  Does this guy not eat?

  Looks like I need to go to the store.

  I grab a bottle of water and head back into the living area.

  I put the water next to Gabe, so he’ll have a drink if he wakes up before I get back from the store.

  I grab his key from the table and get my bag, and then I head for the elevator.

  Harry’s at the security desk when I get down there.

  “How’s Mr. Evans doing?” Harry asks me.

  “He’s sleeping at the moment,” I tell him. “I need to go to the store, as it’s like Old Mother Hubbard’s cupboard in his kitchen.”

  Harry laughs.

  “Do you know where the nearest store is?”

  “Take a right out of here, and there’s a store on the corner of the block. Couple of minutes’ walk. It’ll have everything you need.”

  “Brilliant. Thanks.”

  I head out onto the street and take the directions Harry gave me, and I find the store, no problem.

  I grab a cart and fill it up with groceries. Then, I pay and pack my stuff up into a few bags.

  Thank God I’m not too far from his building, as I’ve got a lot of stuff.

  I lug the bags back to his building.

  Harry rushes to open the door when he sees me. “Do you need a hand, getting these upstairs?” he asks, taking a couple of bags from me.

  “No, I’ll be fine. If you could just get me in the elevator, that’d be great.”

  Harry puts the bags on the floor in the elevator for me, and I climb in.

  “You sure you don’t want a hand?”

  “No, I’ll be fine. But thank you.” I don’t really want him to come up with Gabe sleeping on the sofa.

  Using Gabe’s key, I get the elevator moving.

  It opens up, and I grab all the bags. My heels click on the floor, so I kick them off. Barefoot and being quiet, I carry the bags through the living area, heading to the kitchen.

  Gabe is still sleeping.

  I dump the bags on the counter and then start unpacking the food.

  When I’m done, I start on making some soup for Gabe when he wakes.

  I hope he likes carrot and ginger soup. It’s one of my favorites.

  I love cooking. I used to cook for Jeremy all the time. It’s not so much fun though when you’re only cooking for yourself.

  I make up the vegetable stock I bought. Then, I chop up the carrots and boil them in water to soften them. I pour the stock into the sparkling clean blender. Add in the carrots, ginger, turmeric, cayenne pepper, sour cream, and some wholemeal bread, and I blend the whole thing together. Then, I pop it in a pan on the stove and heat it through.

  When I’m done, I head back into the living room.

  The smell of cigarette smoke tells me that Gabe’s awake.

  “Hey,” I say, walking over. I open the door to the terrace to let in some fresh air. “You sleep okay?”

  He rubs the palms of his hands over his eyes. “Yeah. Guess I needed it.”

  I walk over, pick up the ashtray on the coffee table, and hand it to him.

  “Thanks.”

  I perch on the sofa nex
t to him. “I made soup. I hope you like carrot and ginger.”

  “I wondered what that nice smell was.”

  “Surprised you could smell it over the stench of your nicotine stick.”

  “Surprised you can cook.”

  “Hey!” I shove his arm with my hand.

  God, his biceps are big.

  He chuckles. “Just kidding, Speedy. Where did you get the food from?”

  “This crazy place called a store. You heard of one before?”

  He gives me a look. “Of course I have.”

  “I wouldn’t have thought so with how bare your cupboards were.”

  “I always order in. Or eat out.”

  “Well, you have an amazing kitchen back there that was in serious need of use. So, I went to the store and bought you some food. You owe me a hundred and twenty bucks by the way.”

  “Did you buy the whole store?”

  “Just the essentials and enough to feed you for the next week.”

  He leans his head back against the sofa and takes a drag of his cigarette.

  I’m mesmerized by the set of his lips around that cigarette and then the way the smoke flows out of his mouth before curling up into the air.

  Smoking is gross. But, somehow, he makes it seem sexy.

  “Thank you.” He turns his head to look at me. “I appreciate you cooking for me.”

  The way he’s looking at me, warm brown eyes on mine, I can feel his stare in every part of my body. And it feels good.

  “So”—I clear my throat, looking away—“do you want to eat now?”

  “Shower,” he says. “I feel gross.”

  “How is that going to work?” I ask.

  He stares down at the boot on his leg. “Fuck if I know. Guess I can take it off while I shower.”

  “Nope. Tate said under no circumstances are you to take it off. So, it’s shower with the boot on. Or would a bath be easier? I could keep the water low, and you could hang your leg out of the bath. Rest your foot on a stool.”

  “Sure, I guess that could work.” He shrugs.

  “Okay. I’ll go run you a bath.”

  I head off to his bathroom and get the bath going. I find some bubble bath that says it helps with muscle relaxation and pour it in.

  I need something for him to rest his foot on while he’s in the tub.