The Roommate Equation

by Jillian Quinn

  “Five different studios,” Vinnie groans.

  I set the stack of scripts on his desk and stand there, waiting for him to elaborate. He glances over at the top screenplay and sighs.

  “No one wants to work with him.” He shakes his head. “I hate to say it, but it’s time to let Nico go.”

  “Give him one more chance.”

  What am I doing?

  He’s the hotshot agent.

  I’m his assistant.

  I need this job if I want to move back to my apartment. Well, that’s not looking too hopeful at the moment. I still owe the landlord two months’ rent, making my stay in Malibu more permanent than I had anticipated.

  Vinnie’s eyes are red-rimmed and glassy. The smell of vodka wafts off him, burning my nostrils. I have never seen Vinnie so distraught over a client. He hasn’t been himself the last few days.

  “You believe in him,” Vinnie says. “Why?”

  “Because Nico was considered one of the top actors in the world. He’s still the same person, and he needs our help.”

  Vinnie’s eyebrows rise. “You think you can help him?”

  I shrug, unsure if someone in my position can help anyone. “I don’t know, but I would like to try.”

  He shoves the stack across the desk toward me. “Get a studio to work with Nico, or I’m letting him go.”

  I stare at him, slack jawed, and he waves his hand to dismiss me. Why did I have to stick up for Nico? Now, I’m assigned an impossible task. Studio execs won’t speak to a nobody like me, which means Vinnie has already made up his mind.

  He knows I will fail.

  Once I’m at my desk, my cell phone dings with a new message from Savanna Carter, reminding me that she’ll pick me up in an hour. I was shocked when she offered to take me to lunch. Until the other night at the club, I hadn’t heard from Savanna in over a year. Her entire life has changed for the better, while I’m still struggling in every aspect.

  It’s not her fault you’re a hot mess.

  You’re jealous. Get over it.

  Lately, I have to remind myself that this moment will pass. I will get through this rough patch and get my life back on track. One day I will land a role or sell a screenplay that will make all of my struggles worth it.

  I shove a slice of pizza into my mouth, and my stomach growls like it’s possessed. I drank way too much last night and didn’t eat breakfast. I rolled out of Dylan’s bed a few hours before the alarm clock, unable to sleep. For most of the night, I had nightmares about Sloan finding us together. I imagined both of our lives falling apart because of yet again another mistake.

  But was it a mistake?

  I don’t know.

  “Mmm,” Willow groans as she chews her pizza. “This is so good. The last time I ate here, Harley surprised me with a birthday dinner and told me to order everything on the menu.”

  “How’s it going with Harley living in Philly with Nate?”

  Willow rolls her shoulders. “Harley said I can live in her house for as long as I need, but I don’t want to take advantage. I’m looking at apartments in your neighborhood.”

  “At least you won’t have to move in with your brother and his friend who keeps organizing your stuff.”

  “It could be worse. And at least you get to enjoy the perks of living there.”

  Savanna leans forward, one eyebrow raised. “What perks?”

  Willow wiggles her eyebrows. “The all she can get orgasm buffet.”

  My mouth falls open in shock.

  Savanna gasps, turning her head to look at me. “Wait, you’re with Dylan Banks?”

  Shit.

  I shoot Willow a warning look that says not to push the subject further. No one can know about Dylan and me. Savanna is an old acquaintance, not someone I trust with my secrets. Her husband is in the middle of a merger with Date Crashers. I won’t feed her information that her husband can use against Dylan.

  “No,” I say after a long pause. “Willow’s messing around. She thinks Dylan and I would make a cute couple.”

  Savanna presses her lips together and then nods. “You would. He’s cute in that sexy nerd kind of way.”

  “He’s my brother’s best friend and business partner,” I point out.

  Savanna rolls her shoulders. “What difference does it make? You can still hook up with him.”

  Willow keeps her big mouth shut, her eyes giving me a silent apology for initiating this conversation.

  “He’s not my type,” I shoot back.

  She rolls her shoulders, speaking between bites of food. “Max has a lot of cute friends if you want me to hook you up.”

  “Nah, I’m good. I have enough to deal with right now. I’m not in the headspace for a relationship.”

  “So, you live with Sloan and Dylan?”

  “Until I can move back into my apartment.”

  She asks me a few more questions about my living situation, and I tell her about the eviction. She gives me a sad look, and even offers support, but I don’t want her pity.

  Does my life suck at the moment?

  Definitely.

  Will I land on my feet?

  I always do.

  As if Dylan’s ears were ringing, my phone dings with a new text message from him.

  Dylan: I need your help with something.

  Ash: Explain yourself, Mister.

  Dylan: How do you feel about cabaret?

  Ash: Let me guess… You want me to dance for you? I only did that because it was your birthday.

  Dylan: And you almost broke your ankle.

  Ash: Don’t remind me. That was so unsexy.

  Dylan: Everything you do is sexy.

  Ash: Stop trying to charm your way into my pants.

  Dylan: I don’t need to use charm to get you into my bed.

  Ash: I’m at lunch with the girls. What do you want?

  Dylan: Is that any way to talk to the man who gave you five orgasms last night?

  When I don’t respond right away, he sends another text.

  Dylan: We’re meeting the Exact Match guys tonight at a cabaret club.

  Ash: And you want me to come?

  Dylan: Sloan insists on making this deal work.

  Ash: But you don’t want it to work?

  Dylan: Long story. Are you coming?

  Ash: Can I bring Willow?

  Dylan: Bring whoever you want.

  I glance up from my phone and look across the table at Willow. “Are you in the mood for cabaret?”

  “Oh, you need to come,” Savanna says, beaming with delight. “We had so much fun the last time.” She angles her body to look at me. “Tonight is amateur night.”

  Willow gives me a gentle shrug and then says, “Count me in.”

  A brilliant idea pops into my head, an idea Dylan and my brother will hate.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Dylan

  Ash looks surprisingly calm when we walk into Bella’s Cabaret. A mischievous look crosses her face as she stares at the stage at the center of the club. A group of women stroll past us in flapper costumes, and Ash’s eyes illuminate.

  What are you thinking, woman?

  “Cheer up,” Ash says to me under her breath. “You look like you’re going to kill someone.”

  I force a smile. “Better?”

  She throws her head back and chuckles. “Stop acting like…” Her mouth opens wider as she considers her next words. “Like you.”

  “Who should I act like?”

  “You know what I mean.”

  Instinctively, I move my arm behind Ash and dig my fingers into her hip, pulling her closer. “You didn’t have a problem with me last night.”

  She bites her bottom lip and then looks up at me. I expect another smartass retort, but Ash presses her lips together and looks away. Sloan glances over at me, and I release my grip on Ash.

  I haven’t told Ash about the deal with Exact Match. Sloan is dead set on making this happen, while I have been dreaming up ways to shut it dow
n. I considered telling her, in hopes that she could talk some sense into Sloan.

  But what’s the point?

  When Sloan wants something, he goes after it all costs. He doesn’t see the risks. My business partner has tunnel vision when he sets his sights on the next shiny object.

  The hostess leads us to a group of reserved tables close to the stage. Savanna is sitting on Max’s lap with her tongue shoved down his throat, grinding on him. His younger brothers, Ryan and Shawn, are on his left, talking to the half-naked drink girl.

  The tall blonde is wearing a black and red corset, matching panties, and fishnet stockings. All of the club employees are dressed similarly, most of them wearing articles of clothing from the Roaring Twenties to match the club’s theme.

  Elaborate black and gold art deco designs cover the walls. Among them are photographs from the Prohibition days in America. Men dressed in bowler hats and suits are sitting among a crowd of beautiful women dressed in elegant gowns, dandling cigarettes from their fingers.

  Sloan sits next to Max on the bench, and his head snaps in our direction. Max shakes Sloan’s hand and then reaches out to shake mine. I don’t want to be here. The deal with Exact Match will hurt our progress with Date Crashers. And what bothers me most is that Sloan doesn’t believe I can create a competitor to Exact Match. If he did, we wouldn’t be meeting with these guys.

  A jazz tune belts through the speakers as the lights dim, signaling the next cabaret act is about to begin. Savanna’s eyes widen when she spots Ash and Willow. She waves them over, gesturing for them to sit next to her. I take my place between Sloan and Max’s brothers.

  Max presses his palm to the table and leans over Sloan to look at me. “Sloan tells me you’re having reservations about the paperwork.”

  “I’m not selling my algorithm.”

  “It’s an algorithm. You can write another.”

  “Easy for you to say. You bought yours.”

  The Carter brothers have money and looks, but they don’t have my coding talent. They were investors in an early round of Exact Match funding. Somehow, they managed to devalue the company long enough to make a low-ball offer, securing themselves a billion-dollar dating app. Now, they are crushing it around the world with their suite of dating services.

  I don’t respect them, not the way I would if they were the creators of Exact Match. Sloan doesn’t get it because of his involvement in the company. Sure, his big mouth and ease with schmoozing investors helped us get to this point, but even he doesn’t know what it’s like to create something from scratch, only to give it all away.

  “Look,” Max says with anger in his tone. “I thought we had an agreement. You and Sloan sought us out, not the other way around. I want to work with you on this, but…”

  “You need my algorithm to make it work.”

  He nods. “Sloan assured me this wouldn’t be a problem.”

  His confession sucks the air from my chest. I turn my head to look at Sloan, who gives me one of his boyish smiles. The aww shucks routine isn’t going to work on me this time. Sloan plays stupid to get what he wants.

  How could he do this to me? He played it off earlier as if he had no idea, when in reality he offered my algorithm to them on a silver platter.

  I glance across the table, my eyes instantly finding Ash. She looks so fucking pretty tonight, with her long hair curled over her shoulder. Her tits are popping out of her red top, practically begging me, and every other man in this room, to notice her. Sloan’s betrayal hurts, but knowing I have done worse things to him over the years softens my resolve.

  Ash slides her arm across the back of Willow’s neck and whispers in her ear. They both howl with laughter, their eyes focused on the girls assembling on stage. Willow tilts her head to the side, points her finger at one of the flappers, and then shakes her head.

  I ignore Sloan when he taps me on the shoulder, unable to meet his gaze.

  “You said we could talk about this. Hear Max out.”

  The music dulls to a low hum, and then a female announcer’s voice blares through the speakers. A dark-haired woman in her early forties raises a microphone to her lips. She looks good for her age, her body slim and toned in the same corset outfit as the other employees.

  “It’s Thursday,” the woman says. “So, you know what that means.” She does a little dance, clicking her heels. “Do we have any brave souls in the audience who will join us on stage for a rendition of The Beautiful and the Damned?”

  My heart hammers in my chest when Ash slides off the bench, followed by Willow and Savana.

  Where the hell are they going?

  Sloan is too busy glaring at me to notice the girls are about to walk away. I want to stop her, protect her from the men in this club.

  “Your sister,” I say, tipping my head toward the girls, and he follows my line of sight.

  “Ash,” Sloan groans.

  “Don’t start,” Ash snaps.

  Max waves his hand dismissively. “Let them go. Savanna’s done this before.”

  “My sister isn’t taking her clothes off in front of everyone in this club.”

  “It’s a cabaret show, not burlesque,” Max points out. “She’s an actress, right?”

  Sloan nods.

  Max squeezes Sloan’s shoulder. “So, then let her act.”

  Sloan’s body relaxes, and he leans back against the chair with his arms folded over his chest. I can’t believe him. If anyone could stop Ash from getting on the stage, it’s Sloan. Lately, he does whatever Max wants, and it pisses me off.

  Savanna blows a kiss to her husband. Ash raises her hand and gives me a wave with a silly smirk plastered on her plump, red lips.

  Is she doing this on purpose?

  The girls climb the stairs, and the announcer claps with the microphone in her hand. A brunette appears at their side, guiding them behind the curtain to get dressed for their performance. My stomach fills with nerves. Sloan is speaking to me, but I can’t make out the words over the loud jazz music cranking through the speakers.

  I keep my eyes on the stage, waiting for Ash to emerge with the girls. They have to learn the routine first, so I suppose they will be backstage for a while.

  Sloan taps me on the arm. I ignore him until he hits me harder the second time. I turn my head, giving him my ear, but don’t look at him.

  “We need to make this work,” he says. “Stop acting like a dick.”

  Max is staring at us. With Ash about to shake her ass on stage and Max pushing me for an answer, anger seethes through me, causing my hands to shake. I bite back what I want to say to Max and his dipshit brothers. They are nothing more than rich assholes who buy companies. I already gave up enough equity in my company to get it off the ground. I’m not about to give these assholes another piece of the pie along with my code.

  “Walk with me,” I say to Sloan and then slide off the chair.

  Sloan chases after me, at my side before I reach the bar in the back of the room.

  “What’s the problem, D?”

  “You don’t get it,” I snap.

  Sloan flags down the bartender and orders two beers. “Talk to me. Why don’t you want this deal to happen?”

  “I’ve already told you. You don’t get it.”

  Sloan takes the beers from the bartender, passes one to me, and we clink our bottles together.

  “It’s just an algorithm,” he says between sips of his beer.

  “No, it’s not,” I shout without meaning to be so loud. Taking a deep breath, I regain my focus and lower my voice. “The algorithm is our company. If we sell it, we’re handing over the one thing they need to build other apps.”

  He sets his bottle on the bar, his eyes holding mine. “I don’t get it.”

  “The algorithm does more than match Ditchers with Crashers. It can predict the likelihood of two people’s compatibility, but it’s much more complicated than that.”

  “Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

  “I
did. You weren’t listening to me.”

  “What do we do?”

  I roll my shoulders. “Walk away from the deal.”

  The house lights dim again, and this time, a different jazz tune fills the air. My attention falls to the stage, where Ash, Willow, and Savanna are standing with a few women in flapper costumes. I stare at Ash’s curves in the tight black corset, high-waisted panties, and fishnet stockings.

  She’s popping out of her clothes, gaining the notice of other men in the club. Seeing her in this outfit that leaves little to the imagination, I want nothing more than to rid her of those clothes. I would give anything to watch her slowly strip away each layer.

  This isn’t my first time at Bella’s Cabaret. We have come here in the past for business meetings. But I never paid much attention to the cabaret shows taking place around us. At least not until tonight.

  Ash moves to the tempo, flinging her hands out at her sides, rocking her hips as if she performs this routine every night. She loves being on the stage, commanding our attention.

  My cock jerks with each seductive stare and the gentle sway of Ash’s hips. Images of last night fill my mind, even when I try to push them away. I get lost in the dance and the music, ignoring the fact Sloan is standing next to me.

  After the short routine ends, the house lights go back to a soft glow that illuminates the crowd. The girls enamor everyone in the place, their hands raised to clap. Some of the men whistle.

  A dark-haired man approaches the stage in front of Ash. He’s probably in his late fifties and dressed in a sharp black suit. Ash bends down to speak to him, showing off a nice bit of cleavage.

  I nudge Sloan in the side with my elbow. “Do you know that guy talking to Ash?”

  He squints, straining to get a better look. “Dominic Deville.”

  “The movie producer?”

  He pounds the rest of his beer and nods. “Let’s go see what he wants from my sister.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Ash

  I stare at the audience as the house lights rise to a yellow glow, illuminating the men's faces in the first few rows. They are clapping, cheering, and even whistling for us. I take a bow along with the rest of the girls, and then a dark-haired man approaches the stage. He stops in front of me and beckons me with his index finger.