Rush (Trojan Book 4)

by S. M. West

  “I’ve hired a firm, specializing in cases like this where they don’t know who they’re looking for.” My nervous energy causes me to swing my dangling feet.

  “You’ve already hired them?” She frowns and I nod. “I could have helped.”

  “Hey, I did it before I talked myself out of it.” My laugh is a strangled croak. “I’m both excited and scared.”

  Harley’s arm snakes around me, and I raise a hand, flagging the bartender for our bill. “Do you want to get out of here?”

  “Yes. Have you told your mother?”

  “No way.” I whip my head in her direction. “If she knew, she’d shut this down faster than she can say my name. My mother can’t know until I’ve found him.”

  “Let me know how I can help.”

  We settle the bill and head outside. The warm late-May breeze is a welcomed change from the stale boozy air inside, and the sky is quickly drifting from the purple slate of twilight to the dark coal of night.

  “Do you want to head to your place and order food?” She flags a cab.

  “Is Nash in London?” Dinner sounds great, but if her man is still here, forget it.

  “He leaves tomorrow.” The yellow taxi slows in front of us.

  “No way to dinner. Go home and spend tonight with him.”

  “I don’t want you to be alone.” She opens the back passenger door.

  “Babe, I was born alone, and I’ll die alone. And that’s okay because I’m in luck, I happen to love my company.”

  She wrinkles her brow, not liking my response even though she’s heard it all before.

  Nash is her future, her forever, and I couldn’t be happier for them, but what she has isn’t what’s in store for me. I’m not the long-term relationship type. Marriage gives me hives. And kids? Forget about it.

  “Come home with me.” She slides in, and I follow. “Join us.”

  “Harley, not the threesome. Again.” I’m loud for the benefit of the driver who catches my eye in the rearview mirror. “Honey, I love you, and Nash is sexy, but I’m afraid once he’s had me that would be it for you two.”

  She cackles and hugs me. “I love you. And let’s get one thing straight. If you had me, you’re the one who’d be done for!”

  2

  Eli

  As limelight hungry as any groupie

  “Bye, Gray. Daisy.” I shift with Crystal, my daughter, in my lap. She waves at the screen, and her blonde strands stick to the well-beyond-five o’clock shadow dotting my jaw. “Bye, bye, Henry.”

  “Bye, honey.” Daisy smiles and waves.

  Crystal blows a kiss, and my best friend and her godfather, Gray, pretends to catch it through cyberspace. His fingers wrap around nothing, and he brings his hand to his face, smacking his palm on his cheek.

  She giggles, and Henry, three years old, in his dad’s lap, sprays a raspberry kiss at us. I flinch despite the barrier of time, distance, and the computer screen keeping us from the shower of his love.

  “Bye, CeCe. Love you.” Gray pulls Henry back from slobbering all over the laptop.

  Crystal slides off my lap and drops to the floor, picking up where she left off with her drawing before I made the call.

  I talk or text with Gray at least once a week, and we try to video conference at least twice a month with our families. It’s hard being on opposite ends of the country, us in New York City and them in Los Angeles, but staying connected is important to us.

  “All right, lovebug.” Daisy scoops up Henry and leans closer to the screen. “Bye, Eli. We miss you and Crystal.”

  She blows a kiss, and her son tries once more to do the same. His mother scrunches her nose as he spurts her with his saliva, causing Gray and me to chuckle.

  “Bye, Daze. And talk soon, buddy.” I wave before turning my attention to my best friend. “I got your wedding invitation. What’s this?” I hold up the three by five creamy, egg carton-textured invitation.

  “It’s plantable seed paper. Weren’t the instructions in the envelope?”

  I grin, nodding. “Yeah, but I wanted you to explain it. So I use it to plant a tree?”

  He glances over his shoulder, checking to make sure Daisy isn’t in earshot. “She wanted to lessen our environmental footprint.”

  I chuckle at the ingenuity and Daisy’s good intentions. “Creative. Nice.”

  “To make things official because Daze will want to know…we’ll put you down for two or will it be three?” A sly grin creeps along his face.

  He’s angling for details about my dating situation under the guise of his wedding and my RSVP.

  Not too long ago, I joined an exclusive dating app only available to prominent public figures, the wealthy, famous or otherwise. I’d been asked to participate in the beta testing.

  As an ex-rock star and actor, my movements and dating life aren’t simple. If I don’t want to be recognized, I wear a ball cap and sunglasses to go to the nearest bodega. It could be worse, but I’m not your average guy, and fame is a thing.

  I simply can’t create a dating profile and start swiping. It would be a disaster and bring out all the crazies. Although, this app hasn’t been much better.

  So far, I’ve had very few second dates with any of the women I’ve met through the app. These women are supposedly vetted, since they have similar concerns. Most are public figures or reputable in some way or another. But in my experience, they’re as limelight hungry as any groupie or fan.

  They don’t want to talk about me, as a person, or even entertain the idea I have a daughter. Ah, nope. All they care about is my stardom.

  I’m lost to thoughts of my disastrous dating, and Gray harshly clears his throat when I take too long to respond.

  “You are coming to the wedding, aren’t you, Eli?”

  I’m surprised by the question. Everyone we consider family lives in LA. We were last there over Christmas when one of my closest friends, Jared, and his now wife, Eva, got married. That’s when Gray asked me to be his best man.

  “Of course I’m coming. I’m the best man. I wouldn’t miss it, but it won’t be for a week as originally planned.” I click the screen of my phone to bring up my calendar. “If we stay on schedule, filming of What Tomorrow Brings should wrap around then, but I’ll need to be back soon. I told Bryce I needed four days for LA no matter what. It’s all I can spare right now.”

  “That’s cool.” Relief washes over his face. “Are you still good with us bringing Henry to you the following week? If not—”

  They’re honeymooning in the Outer Banks, a string of barrier islands off the coast of North Carolina and southeastern Virginia. It’s where Gray was born and spent some of his childhood.

  “Yes. Henry is staying with us. I’ve even arranged things for them. It’s all good. Can’t wait.”

  I offered to keep Henry so they could have alone time. Daisy’s sister or one of several other people in LA could watch him, but I want to do this for my friend and for Crystal. She adores Henry.

  “Awesome.”

  “Well, I better get going. Mia’s going to be here in a few to get Crystal.”

  At the mention of my lawyer, one of the best at entertainment law, and also my friend, Gray furrows his blond brow. “Mia? Why?”

  “My call time is four in the morning tomorrow, and Janet’s daughter went into labor today, so she’s off for a few days.”

  “That’s rough. I don’t know how you do those early mornings. I’d be useless. Tell Janet congrats for me.”

  “Yeah, it’s all part of the job.” I rake a hand through my unruly hair. “And I will. Crystal’s excited to see the baby.”

  “Yes. Look what I made.” Her feet thump along the wooden floor as she rushes to my side, holding up a piece of paper with a drawing of a teddy bear.

  “That’s an amazing bear. The baby will love it.” He proffers a huge grin, and she beams at him with pride.

  “All right, it’s time for you to get ready.” I squeeze her shoulder, and she nods, once
more waving and trotting off toward her room. “Talk later, G.”

  My finger hovers over the end call button and he nods. “Wait. Is it two or three for the wedding?”

  My phone rings, and it’s Charlie, the building’s night doorman.

  “Gray, gotta go.” I hold up the phone. “It’ll be Crystal and me. Bye.” I hit end before he can ask any more questions.

  Mia’s visit is quick with Tripp, her husband, double-parked on the street. She’s ready to give birth any day now and yet she’s helping me out. Guilt pinches at my chest when I close the door behind them.

  She has always been good to us and loves Crystal like her own. I’m so grateful for her friendship. Next to Janet, my housekeeper/nanny, Mia’s the only other person in Manhattan I trust with my kid.

  And while life is busy, I’m fortunate to occasionally get a night to myself. Sometimes, Crystal will sleep over at a friend’s, or at times like this when work is crazy, Mia will take her for a few days or even a week at a time.

  I’m on my own for the next seven days. Outside of filming, I’m free to do whatever I want…but I won’t skip out of my life, not even for a night, like I did recently.

  That was wildly unexpected. A night of pure pleasure.

  No, I’m not doing that again. It could be habit-forming although not something I’d want to do with just anyone. I’d only want a repeat if it was with her. Whoever she is.

  Over the past week, since that fateful night, during slices of solitude my mind wanders back to her…to my one-night stand.

  Shit. A one-night stand. I can barely wrap my head around the word. I’m no longer that guy. Yet, it was all me last week, alone and craving something…something different.

  Frustrated with fruitless dating and no end in sight, I wanted off the merry-go-round. All my dates were the same. Barely halfway through dinner, I’d be mentally deleting their numbers.

  Yes, I wanted out of my life. Just for a moment. A night.

  And Christ, that’s exactly what I got.

  A chance meeting with a gorgeous woman. We never said a word; the connection was elemental and happened on an intrinsic level.

  I fucked her in a private restroom.

  The sex…fuck me, the sex was phenomenal.

  But that kind of behavior isn’t how I find a life partner. No, and I can’t think about that now. It’s in the past. It was a fantastic escape, but that’s all it is.

  Focus. My call time is obscenely early tomorrow, and while all I want to do is sleep, I have work that will get me closer to my dreams.

  Acting is relatively new to me with a little more than a year under my belt, but my true desire is to direct films. I’m tired of the in-your-face fame and would love to move from in front of the camera to behind it.

  Fortunately, there’s a deal in the works where I’d direct an indie film, and when Mia came for Crystal, she also left the contract for me to look over with her notations.

  I settle at the kitchen table and read through the document. It doesn’t take as long as expected and I feel pretty good when I’m getting into bed at close to eleven.

  Before I can turn off the lights, my phone pings and I swipe at the screen while sliding under the covers. It’s a notification on the dating app with another like and comment. This woman is interested in a date and wants me to message her.

  Groaning, I close the app, set my phone on the side table, and hit the button on the lamp, plunging my room into darkness. I already have a date set up this week with someone new.

  Her name’s Felicity, and she’s made her money in textiles—or her family has, although she does work for the company. When I invited her out, I’d been looking forward to it.

  Despite my early call times this week and previous disastrous dates, I still have hope. I’m holding out for my dream woman. But now, in the dark, fatigue weighing on my chest, the idea of another first date is daunting and unappealing.

  For all of Crystal’s eight years of life, it’s always just been the two of us. We have a great life and if things stay the way they are, we’d be good. My life would be fulfilled and happy.

  I don’t need a woman to complete me. But…I want a family of my own.

  Crystal is my world, and I’ve got my ex-band mates, Gray, Silas, and Jared, and their partners…they are family. But I want the whole nine yards.

  My childhood was good and stable with great parents who loved each other. And while my career doesn’t easily afford a normal lifestyle, whatever that is, I want my daughter to have the stability and family I had. And someday, I want more kids—brothers and sisters for Crystal.

  Even before the dating app, I’d had ample opportunity to meet women. That isn’t my problem. The problem is finding someone who wants me not for what I do, but for who I am.

  Very few are interested in the single dad who was born and raised in LA by average, hard-working parents. And at first, I thought the app might be the solution since most women on there are also public figures or wealthy.

  I was wrong. Wealth, reputation, and prestige are all important to them. Because of their public status, none are looking for an average Joe. Not that I could fully claim to be one.

  And I’d hoped the app would weed out the star chasers, but judging by how things are going, my rising star or time with the band is my most admirable quality to my dates.

  I can’t seem to get past my public persona and it sickens me. I’m not expecting perfection, but I want real. I want someone who is kind-hearted, loving, funny, and smart.

  Maybe I’m trying too hard or expecting too much, looking for something that doesn’t exist.

  3

  Pru

  The best of luck to you

  “What aren’t you telling me?” Harley drops the slice onto her plate.

  The bite of gooey pizza lodges in my throat, and I try not to choke. “I might need to look for a job outside the city.”

  She rears back, staring at me as if I’ve confessed to committing mass murder. “You’d leave the city?”

  Best friends since the first day of college, we clicked instantly. We were assigned dorm roommates, and over the first few hours of talking, we discovered we had a lot in common.

  We’re both only children. Well, she has younger siblings from her mother’s second marriage, yet often, she feels like an outsider.

  We both have negligent mothers who prefer to live as if their daughter doesn’t exist.

  We both love music and doing our nails, although I’m clearly obsessed and hers is an intense like. And finally, we both swore we’d live and die in Manhattan.

  While I love the city, my need to stay put has more to do with my childhood than living in one place or another.

  “I don’t want to, but I won’t live off my trust fund. I’d go insane without work, and think of the ammunition I’d be handing Priscilla if I kick up my heels and eat bonbons all day.” My sarcasm falls flat, and her laugh is stilted.

  At the mere mention of my mother, my phone rings. It’s her. We stare at the vibrating device, and a coral-covered nail hits ignore, sending Mom to voicemail.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to talk to her?”

  “I’m sure.”

  “But she knows you moved in today. She’ll keep calling.”

  I nod and bite down on my bottom lip. Harley helped with the move, if I can even call it that. It was only my clothes, and most of it was taken care of by the moving company.

  We spent most of the day lounging on the private terrace, soaking up the sun and views of the Manhattan skyline. Now we’re eating pizza on the carpet in the media room.

  “You don’t have to leave New York.”

  “I don’t want to, but Whitney’s doing her best to get me blacklisted.”

  “Oh my God, seriously?”

  “She’s talking. I made a few calls to mutual business connections, just to see what opportunities might be available, and let’s just say she hasn’t been nice.”

  Whitney Carmichael
can be vindictive and scary, and for some reason, I threaten her. She got me fired, and her husband, Ross, was no help in shedding any light on why his wife has it out for me.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Outside of the obvious careers, I applied to the United Nations.” With a business degree and fluency in multiple languages, there are several possibilities like translations for the UN. According to my mother, that’s a real career.

  “Great.”

  “Maybe.” I glance at the open manicure kit, housing a mere fraction of my nail polish collection, and pick a few colors, trying to decide which to wear for my first day of work. “It’s competitive, and if they hire me, training is long and there’s no guarantee they’ll place me here. I could be stationed at one of their international offices.”

  “Don’t make any decisions just yet.” She squeezes my knee. “Something will work out. Maybe you could work for Nash and me?”

  “Nope,” I say a little too quickly, and her eyes widen. “I really appreciate it, but I want to do this on my own.”

  I’m not good at accepting help or leaning on other people. It’s part of how I grew up—on my own.

  My phone rings. Mother. Again.

  My friend offers a sympathetic smile. “I should go and you should talk to her.”

  “I’ll call her once you’re gone.” I lead the way down the spiral staircase to the elevator where we say goodbye.

  Then, reluctantly, I trudge up several flights of stairs, stalling on each floor of the penthouse, which my family has owned since it was built in nineteen thirty-one. Anything to delay calling my mother.

  My great-grandfather made his money in steel and aluminum, which in turn my grandfather expanded into real estate and finance. Today, my uncle runs our family empire, and at twenty-one, I came into a profanely healthy trust fund that could power a small nation for generations.

  I grab my phone from the carpet and steel my spine. My mother answers on the first ring. “Prudence, why didn’t you answer my call?”