Child Star: Part 1

by J. J. McAvoy

  “Fine, but remember that if you’re out, someone else is in. Someone will be with her—”

  Ignoring him, I followed Daniel as he lifted the ribbon blocking the VIP area from the rest of the club. Pushing through the crowd, my head felt like it was going to explode, but I wasn’t sure if was from the DJ or just stress at this point.

  I’m a horrible guy on most days, but when it came to Amelia, I was always at my worst. I didn’t even know if I had a good side anymore, but I knew I didn’t want to figure it out while she was near me. Even now, I could still see her face: she was sixteen then, her light brown hair an absolute mess, her blue eyes so red, I thought she had tried to claw them out of her own head.

  She’d asked me one question: “Why?”

  I couldn’t reply. I still couldn’t reply. I just wanted the image out of my head.

  As I made my way into the bathroom, the bottle I had forgotten I was carrying slipped out of my hands as they shook.

  “Dude, what the fuck?” Some guy glanced back at me, zipping up his jeans.

  “Get out,” I whispered, gripping the marble sink.

  “What—”

  “GET THE FUCK OUT!” I growled. Luckily, before it got worse, Austin—my personal shadow—slipped the bastard a few bills and shoved him toward the door. He checked under every stall to make sure we were alone.

  “You need to be—”

  “Pills,” I cut him off.

  “Noah.”

  “Pills!” I stretched my hand out for them.

  Sighing, he reached into his jacket and tried to pour them into my hand for me, but I snatched them and poured more than I should have into the palm of my hand before tossing them in my mouth. Without water, I swallowed.

  “I’m not doing the movie,” I said again.

  “Let’s get you home.”

  “I can’t, Austin.” He ignored me, placing one of my arms over his shoulders to help me walk. I didn’t realize how badly I needed it until I tried to step forward. Everything was out of focus, but I preferred that. I didn’t want to see anyone’s face anyway.

  Chapter Three

  Amelia

  Shooting was to take place in Chicago, so our flight was for 4:00 a.m. Yet it was now 7:00 a.m., and we were still on the tarmac waiting for none other than Noah Sloan.

  “He’s unbelievable.”

  “Think on the positive side, at least you get to finish the book,” Ollie whispered. He was sitting opposite me and slid over the novel.

  I leaned back against the seat, flipping the book open to the fifth chapter just as the pompous ass came in with sunglasses, dressed in dark blue jeans, a casual shirt, and a leather jacket.

  “So sorry we’re late,” his manager said, beside him. Noah didn’t say a word. He sat down in the seat opposite mine and next to Ollie’s, and immediately leaned back. He did not care about the producer that sat in the seat behind him.

  “No good—” I started.

  “Amelia,” Ollie leaned in, whispering. “What is it about him that boils your blood like this?”

  “He’s just a horrible human being. That should make anyone upset,” I said, softly gripping my book. I’d never gone to school, but I’d acted in enough TV shows and movies to know there is always that one bully. Noah was mine.

  “Sorry we all can’t all be princesses,” Noah yawned, turning his head toward me. “You are horrible at whispering.”

  Do not engage. Nothing you say, Amelia, will change him.

  “Thanks for letting me know. I’ll work on it.” I forced a smile before opening the book again.

  He gave a snide laugh. I tried to focus.

  “Did you get to the part where Blair sucks Damon off in the car yet?” he asked, just as the plane started to move. I dropped the book, much to his amusement. “I guess not.”

  “I’m still in the beginning,” I replied, reaching back down to get it.

  “I have to give you credit, London. Who knew you’d be bold enough to read erotica in front of people? Then again— never mind.”

  My teeth gritted together. How had he not changed in all these years? He was even worse now. I gripped the armrest when we took off and didn’t relax until we were completely in the air. When the seat belt sign went off, Noah rose from his seat, taking off his glasses and standing over me.

  “Can I help you?” I asked.

  “Let’s read lines,” he said and glanced over to Ollie, giving him some sort of signal to leave. Ollie complied, moving to the other side of the private jet. Noah sat down right in front of me, rubbing his eyes tiredly rather than focusing on me.

  “You look like you were up all night,” I said.

  “I was.” He winked.

  Rolling my eyes, I grabbed a script. “Who was it now, a Victoria’s Secret model? No—two Victoria’s Secret models?”

  “Jealous?” he asked.

  “As if.” I scoffed. “I feel sorry for them. You use them for sex and toss them away like used tissues.”

  “They know what they’re getting into. I’m just as much a notch in their belts as they are in mine. Not everyone is as prudish as you.” His eyes never left mine. It felt like he was looking right through me.

  “I’m not a prude.”

  “Yeah, okay—”

  “Didn’t you want to read lines? Where is your script?”

  “Just start from where you would like.”

  “Fine,” I muttered, opening to the middle. “‘Do you ever think of quitting?’”

  “‘What would I do?’” Noah replied, staring at me.

  I shifted in my seat but kept reading. “‘Anything we want to do? We could go to Paris, Rome, Istanbul. Anywhere, just you and me—”

  “‘You still haven’t answered my question, Blair. What would we do, not where would we live. We’re thieves—always have been and always will be. Or is that not who you are anymore?’” I glanced up at him as he recited it perfectly, his voice annoyed and steady.

  “‘Damon—‘”

  “‘Answer me. Are you done? If you want to go, babe, then go. But I can’t go with you. This is who I am until the day I die. I don’t know how to do anything else. I don’t want to do anything else. My two greatest joys in life are taking what I want and taking you. I’d rather resent myself for not being able to walk away than resent you for making me give this up.’”

  After that scene, Blair strips down and kisses down his chest.

  So I flipped to another section and read “‘What do you mean what did I do?’”

  “‘I told you to knock him out, not kill him.’”

  I paused, putting the script down to look at Noah, who was still staring at me. “You memorized the whole script?”

  He finally looked at me, confused. “Haven’t you?”

  No, I hadn’t. Most of my lines, but not to the point where he was.

  “You’ve gotten lazy.” He closed the book and slid it back to me. “The old Amelia used to know every line of all her scripts to the point where she would correct the other actors.”

  “Yeah, and you’d call me annoying or make fun of me,” I muttered, looking out the window. The clouds drifted right by us.

  “I was a kid.”

  “And what’s your excuse now that you’re an adult?”

  He opened his mouth to speak and then stopped, sighing before asking, “When are you going to stop holding the past against me?”

  When it no longer hurts to think about.

  “Why should I? After all these years, it’s not like you’re a different person. Like always, everything must work on your time. You were horrible then, and you’re still horrible now,” I snapped, which stirred a few people around me. Smiling apologetically to them, I focused my attention back on Noah.

  “You have no idea what it was like dating you,” he said, shaking his head. “The amount of pressure you added to my life then. Jesus. I felt like I couldn’t walk out of the bathroom without some bastard telling me, ‘Don’t break Amelia’s heart. Do
n’t do anything stupid. How’d you manage to date Amelia?’ My favorite were the times when people thought we shouldn’t be together because they saw us play siblings. Dating you was a nightmare.”

  “What?” My mouth dropped open. He could have shot me in the face, and it still would have felt better than hearing that.

  He frowned and shrugged like it was nothing to him. “Do you remember just how many fan letters you got each day and how many parents would bring their kids to set? You were always surrounded by guys, all of them trying to date you. All of them taking your attention away. All of that on top of the fact that we never saw each other. Our relationship was doomed from the start. The only love that lasts in Hollywood is the one we fake and sell to others.”

  “So back then, you figured, ‘Hey why not just end it sooner?’ Is that why you cheated on me?”

  “Now that you know, maybe you’ll be able to stop grumbling over me and focus on your work.” He yawned, leaning back and closing his eyes.

  “Wow.” I had no words.

  “Let’s call a truce already.”

  “Fine,” I replied, still trying to wrap my head around his confession. It didn’t make sense, and it only pissed me off more.

  I was sixteen! He had no idea how it felt waking up one morning and finding out in the paper that he’d been spotted making out with some model. I felt like the world had crumbled at my feet. I cried for days. Now he was telling me it was my fault and that I should get over it already.

  Glancing up at him and noticing how his chest rose and fell over and over again, I couldn’t help but remember the times we did have together. He would surprise me in my trailer with gummy bears—only the red kind—and leave a handwritten note with two words on it: “You’re beautiful.”

  Ugh, I don’t want to think about this!

  I pulled out our itinerary. The moment we landed, we’d be whisked off to get ready for a promotional event, followed by a dinner for the cast and crew. The next morning, we’d be blocking the sets, followed by actually acting. It was March now, and they wanted to release by Valentine’s Day next year.

  Using my tablet, I searched “Damon and Blair.” The very first thing that came up was a page for fans picking their dream cast for the movie. I didn’t understand why everyone loved them so much. Damon and Blair were bad people who only cared about each other, no matter who else got hurt.

  “I wished someone loved me as passionately as Damon loves Blair. He’d die for her,” one blogger wrote. Right under that was a link to the petition to replace me. Overnight, it had gained another three thousand supporters. Before I threw my tablet back in my purse, I noticed a link to a piece about Noah.

  From Cute to Hot to Sinful, the headline read.

  The very first picture under “cute” was the two of us when we were kids. His hair was longer and a little lighter. I remember them wanting a blonde but settling on dying his hair a warm brown instead. He always wore a shark tooth around his neck. There was even a photo of him during his own TV miniseries, The Adventures of Young Clark Kent.

  The second picture of him, as “hot,” was when he acted in Hawaii as Child Ninja. He stood on a rock in the middle of the beach, shirtless and with his fist extended, the most serious expression on his face. I almost wanted to laugh. But that was his last big movie as the lead. The others flopped, and then he mostly acted in supporting roles.

  Lastly, most recently, his “sinful” look, was from a photo shoot dated only a month ago. He was dressed in a full fitted suit, a smirk across his lips, a women’s leg over his shoulder while another woman sat at his feet. There was another shot where he stood shirtless, fake glasses on, and a cigarette between his lips.

  “He’s hot and totally who I see as Damon, but I really hope he doesn’t blow it in this movie. His other movies sucked.”

  I glanced up at him, oddly comforted that he was in the same boat as I was. Maybe this could work?

  Rolling my eyes, I threw the tablet into my bag and reached for the script. I spent the whole flight reading. In fact, I didn’t even notice when we touched down until Noah got up, not saying a word. He took out his phone and grabbed his bag when the cabin door opened.

  “You didn’t kill each other?” Ollie came over to me as I got up.

  “At least not yet anyway,” I said, following him out. There were two cars waiting for us. Noah, however, threw his leg over the back of a black motorcycle, revved up the engine and sped off.

  “Alright. We’re going to the hotel. It’s not far, and there, you all will do your first photo shoot. Hair and makeup are already in your room,” Ollie said, opening the door for me to slide in. “Have I mentioned how proud I am of you?”

  “Only like seven hundred times,” I said, smiling while winding down the window. I’d never been to Chicago.

  “What’s that?” I pointed to the bean-shaped object in the distance.

  “It’s called the Cloud Gate. Would you like to stop—” the driver offered.

  “We don’t have time, maybe later,” Ollie cut him off before he could finish, and when he said “maybe later,” he really meant “never.”

  It was strange how we could shoot in the most beautiful places, but as an actor, I’d never get a chance to truly see them. Between shooting, promotions, and rest, time flew by too quickly, and every minute spent on location was planned out.

  “Amelia, what would you like to eat?”

  A burger, waffle fries, ice cream, and a slice of chocolate cake. But only in my dreams.

  “Soup and a ham sandwich,” I said instead.

  “Maybe just the soup until after the shoot. The bread might make you bloated for the photos,” he said, already texting.

  “You know best.”

  “And never forget it,” he said with a laugh, putting his phone back into his jacket pocket. “I’ve also talked to the director. We’ll be saving all the more intimate scenes of the movie until the end. It will give you time to ease into things and get comfortable. Sadly, they wouldn’t budge during the photo shoot.”

  Noah Sloan would be kissing me between my thighs. No amount of time would make that any more comfortable.

  “We’re here. A few fans found out about this location, but there is full security,” he said, handing me shades.

  “Who should I act like—”

  “No one. Just keep walking to the hotel, and don’t make contact. They still have to warm up to the idea of you.”

  I placed the sunglasses on my face as the driver came around to my side, holding open the door for me. Ollie had misled me with the word “few.” There were at least a hundred women outside the hotel being held back by security, and just as the doors closed behind me, Noah pulled up on his bike. They almost lost their minds screaming out for him and snapping pictures.

  He didn’t say anything. He gave them a small wave and a fake smile and walked in with ease.

  “You aren’t Blair!” someone yelled, and all of a sudden, what tasted like sugar flew out at me, coating my hair, sliding down my shirt, and even getting into my shoes.

  “Amelia!” Ollie grabbed me from the side, along with a bodyguard, and pushed me forward into the hotel.

  “Someone call a doctor! Amelia, are you right?” Ollie asked, coming around to the front of me and brushing away the sugar.

  “Yeah, I’m okay. I don’t need a doctor—”

  “Don’t be dumb. God only knows what they could have put in that,” Noah said, frowning as he looked me up and down.

  “You seem worried.”

  “I would prefer you to quit because you know you can’t do it, not because you got sick,” he replied, walking off to the elevators.

  So much for our little truce.

  When I took off my shoes, white sugar poured out like sand. I could even feel it up against my breasts, tempting me to reach inside my bra and scoop it out.

  “When do you think they will warm up to me?” I asked Ollie as we headed toward the elevator.

  “When
the movie comes out.”

  Great! Another year of this.

  I said only a short hello to the women who were working in my master suite, everything soft pink, cream, and white—my favorite colors. I started toward the marble bathroom, stripping down and stepping under the water. It was the only place I could be alone. The only place I could breathe or cry or scream.

  Sliding down the slick wall, I sat on the floor as the hot water beat against my skin. And like he knew I was getting comfortable, Ollie knocked on the door. “Amelia, the doctor is here. Besides, you can’t stay in there too long or your skin will dry out.”

  Sighing, I reached up, turned off the water and grabbed a towel. I couldn’t even get a moment’s peace.

  “Amelia? You okay?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine. I’ll be out in a second.”

  “Cover up. I’ll send her in.”

  “I’m covered,” I said, taking another towel for my hair.

  When the door opened, an older woman with thick glasses came inside with her bag.

  “Hi, Ms. London. I’m Dr. Smithson. I heard someone threw sugar on you? Did you get any in your mouth?”

  “Yes.” I leaned against the sink, holding the towel around me tightly.

  “Do you feel sick or dizzy?” she asked, checking my eyes with a small light.

  “No.”

  “Okay, I’m going to take some blood just in case,” she explained, pulling out a needle.

  Ollie gave me a thumbs up and went to answer his phone. I noticed six more people come into the room. I felt as if I couldn’t breathe. But shouldn’t I be used to that by now?

  ***

  “Okay, open your eyes.”

  “Woah,” I said, adjusting to the lash extensions and my whole new look. Everything about me looked sexy, from the red lips to my smoky eyes. They had added just a little more volume and waves to my hair, too.

  “What do you think? I added a little pink to the smoky eye because it’s Blair’s signature in the book.”

  “You’re a fan too?” I asked, taking a paper towel to wipe some of the lipstick off my teeth.

  She smiled. “Isn’t everyone?”