Notorious (Hollywood Bad Boys)

by Caitlin Daire

  So why did she look so...upset?

  I leaned against the wall and studied her, trying to crack open her secrets because she looked as open as a young clam right about now. Alison was beautiful, the kind of beauty that hit me deep. Smooth glowing skin that reminded me of secrets and lust, a headful of beautiful curly hair, eyes as dark as embers, and curves that made me think incredibly impure thoughts. And she had one tiny dimple in her left cheek that flared when she smiled.

  Every item on my mental check list met. The night she danced for me was one of the best nights of my life. And here we stood, with her not throwing her panties at me. I hated it when that happened.

  I pretended to rifle through the contract, but we both knew I wasn't reading it. Bobby and I made a great team because he knew exactly what I wanted and how to get it. That, I wasn't worried about.

  "Tell me." I broke the silence she was holding. "What is it?"

  She dropped into a chair and swiveled around for a moment before fidgeting with every goddamn thing on her desk.

  "Alison."

  She closed her eyes and sighed. "There's been some... concern."

  There it was. The proverbial shoe that lived solely to kick my ass. "About me. On set."

  She nodded. "No one can deny you're talented, but—"

  "I get it." I kept my voice light even though her barbs dug deep. Fuck, couldn't a guy ever catch a break in this place? And god forbid I ever let them know this shit actually bothered me, because my career really would be over and I'd have to make money by doing shitty endorsements or flipping burgers or some shit. And everyone would come by to point and laugh at the asshole who tried to make movies and still ended up asking if you wanted pickles on that. "But I still have a contract here."

  "You do. They asked me to personally keep an eye on you."

  It didn't really register what she was saying until she finally met my gaze. The girl looked nervous as hell. "So if I fuck this up, I fuck it up for the both of us."

  "Something like that." She looked away.

  "Hey." I reached over and grabbed her hand. It took her an extra second to pull away. Point for Jack. "Listen, I'm not an asshole and I'm not a selfish bastard, okay? I know what they say about me. I'm not fucking stupid. I also know I got this role because of you and I'm not going to make you regret that. Okay?"

  Alison nodded, still not looking thoroughly convinced. I got the impression she didn't have to deal with actors much on set. Well, I wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. Besides, this meant I got more time on set with her. I'd win her over to my side. Eventually, she'd be throwing those panties with a fervor.

  "Besides." I tossed her a wicked smile. "After that performance you put on at the club, how I could I pass up the opportunity to have you around?"

  She looked almost horrified. Almost. The rest of it was a hint of pride. See, feisty. This was going to be fun, aside from that whole Producers Don't Trust Me shit. "Get out of my office."

  "I'd hardly call this an office."

  "Out."

  "I'm only going because Denver is waiting for me and a responsible actor would not keep his cast waiting. But while I'm here—"

  "Go!" Alison laughed. "Out. My office is too small for your ego."

  I shot her a wink before disappearing back into the labyrinth of the set. Having a babysitter was bullshit, but having a hot babysitter was a turn on. Wicked.

  Chapter 6

  ALISON

  I did not become a casting agent to babysit actors. That was the director’s job. That was why they got paid the big bucks. It wasn’t all uncomfortable seats and yelling ‘Cut’. It was dealing with egos and attitudes and nobodies thinking they could delay production simply because they got to see their faces on a big screen.

  I wasn't getting any sort of compensation for following Jack Steele around on set... aside from being able to watch him every day. Perks, however, were no good to me unless they were green and featured several old dead white men. Sarah told me I was looking at things the wrong way, but staring at Jack's ass six days a week wasn't paying my student loans any faster.

  "You've become a corporate sellout." She raised her eyebrows at me while turning one of the extra's board-straight hair into a mountain of ringlet curls. "There is more to life than a mountain of money."

  "Like what?"

  "Like a mountain of really sexy dick."

  The extra giggled enough for the both of us, so I could pretend to be offended. "Who said anything about getting dick?"

  "Well, not yet maybe."

  I rolled my eyes. "Can you remember where we are right now? This is work, you ass."

  "I'm just saying." Sarah danced her way around the chair. "Everyone's been talking about how lucky you are to keep him by your side."

  "He's not my toddler. I just have to make sure he comes to work and doesn't make a mess."

  It was quiet for just a minute, and then the extra chimed in. "Do you also make sure he takes his naps?"

  Sarah dissolved into a pile of giggles and high-fived her. "Nailed it!"

  I conceded a small smile, enough to show I had a sense of humor, and then checked my watch. "You guys suck. And as much as I love to stand around here and talk about one of our employees...."

  "I wonder what his muscles feel like." The extra chimed in, ignoring me. "I've never seen someone built like him before. I didn't think those people really existed."

  "Girl, have you never seen Dwayne Johnson? Oh, they exist."

  "Did you ever work with him?" Her eyes were wide. "Did you get to touch him?"

  I laughed for real. "Oh my god. All you actors are the same. It feels like skin, sweetheart. He is a real person, not a demi-god."

  "Debatable." Sarah winked at me. "I'll be sure to mention that the next time I catch you checking out his ass."

  Extra Girl high-fived her.

  "Whatever. I need to go."

  "Tell little Jack-Jack it's time to go night-night!" Sarah called after me. "Don't forget his blankie!"

  I raised both hands and flipped her off until I rounded a corner and disappeared from sight. Her laughter followed me all the way down the hall. The whole thing, truly, felt ridiculous. Babysitting a grown man? No matter how hot he was. Technically, my job here was done. I should be packing up the office, moving on to another gig, another client. There were background checks to run and tapes to sort through. Already, the head of the studio was emailing me about an animated movie they just signed. That almost always meant working with the BIG names in Hollywood, which was a double-edged sword. Working with the A-listers? Awesome...until their egos came into play.

  Speaking of egos. Music pumped out of Jack’s trailer—trendy country music about girls and booze and full of what had to be an artificial twang. I shuddered a bit before knocking. Country music and I didn’t jive. Also, that accent was totally fake. No one talked like that in real life. No one.

  I knocked three times before trying the handle. It was time for his morning check-in and I had a list of other things that I needed to do for the studio that didn’t involve this movie. Also, maybe I didn’t really need to check in on him so much as maybe I wanted to see him, because it wasn’t an issue until he was late for filming but whatever, shut up, get off my case, brain.

  “Come in!” As he yelled, the music dropped about eighty decibels. Thank god.

  “Hey Jack. Just wanted to—” The words froze in my throat.

  Jack was pacing around his trailer, script in hand. Working. Reading lines. He had that whole ‘I’m concentrating very hard’ look about him that should have been very reassuring to see. Except….

  He was stark naked. Naked as a newborn baby. Pacing his trailer with no clothes on.

  And oh my god, those rumors about his dick? Pretty accurate. And he wasn’t even, you know…..hard.

  “I’m so sorry!” I managed, trying to force my eyes up past his waistline. Was it hot in here? I was suddenly so warm. “I didn’t…you said….”

 
; “No need to apologize. I let you in.” I could hear the glee in Jack’s voice.

  I needed to stop looking at his dick. Right now. Okay, right now. “Why did you invite me in if you were…not dressed?”

  “It’s just a body.” He grinned slyly at me when I was finally able to look at his face. “Nothing to be ashamed of.”

  “Y-you…. If I was...” I closed my eyes tight and tried to focus. “Jack, this could be a huge sexual harassment issue…”

  “It’s my trailer.”

  “You invited me in.”

  “You knocked. I said I was naked.”

  I paused, trying to rewind what just happened in my mind, but I couldn’t seem to unstick the tape past the part when I discovered him naked. “Did you?”

  “Yep.”

  “I… okay.” I cracked my eyes open and kept them on his collarbone. I couldn’t even look him in the eye. He was absolutely delicious everywhere. Muscles stacked on muscles, a dick that could give any dildo some serious envy…. I’d slap myself right now if this wasn’t already insanely embarrassing. “Well, do you need anything? Someone to help run lines?”

  There was that sly smile again, floating in my periphery. He sauntered toward me and I fumbled for the door but couldn’t find the handle. “I think there’s maybe something you could help with. Maybe something you want to help with. There’s been so much stress lately with how fast I landed the role, and all the press jumping everywhere. I’ve seen it on your face too.” He gently took my hand and pulled it down.

  Horror flashed through my mind. He was going to make me touch his dick. He thought he could just fuck me because… because what? Because he was Jack Steele? He thought he could have whatever the fuck he wanted?

  I ripped my hand out of his and shoved him back. “Remember what I said about sexual harassment, Jack? This isn’t a club. This is a workplace. I suggest you get on some goddamned clothes and get your shit together. You have to be on set in forty-five minutes.”

  I found the doorknob and marched right out, shaking. I knew the rumors about Jack, so why was I so surprised? This was exactly the kind of bullshit people like him pulled. That I was even moderately interested in him made me sick to my stomach. How dare he?

  My feet took me straight to Denver’s office before I realized it. I should tell him. This kind of bullshit couldn’t continue going on. It was rampant on every set but I was not going to be known as the girl who slept with the people she cast. I’d get blacklisted so fast.

  Then again, if I did…. What would happen? Would they fire Jack? Would this turn into an I told you so scenario? Gerald would never shut up about it.

  I took a deep breath and walked back to my office. Maybe there was a misunderstanding. Maybe because of the kiss during the audition, or maybe he could smell my crush like a perfume, and thought I’d be willing to fuck him just because of who he was. The atmosphere in Hollywood wasn’t exactly…friendly.

  Things would just be strictly professional from now on. I would make sure Jack was on set when he was supposed to be, check in on occasion to make sure he hadn’t destroyed anything, and that was it. I’d worked too hard to have my career go down the toilet.

  Chapter 7

  JACK

  Okay, sometimes I could be a real dick. My best friend had repeatedly told me it was a defense mechanism, but I wasn’t sure what for, especially with Alison. She stuck her neck out for me, got me this sweet gig in a movie that I was hoping would help me break out of the bullshit ‘Jack Steele is a terrible actor to have on set’ cycle that seemed to plague me everywhere I go.

  I probably shouldn't have tried to make her touch my dick. She was just bangin'. Hard. I thought maybe...

  Maybe, right?

  By the time I hit the makeup chair, it was pretty clear I fucked up bad. What if she told Denver? What if my ass was roasted by the time I made it on set? I needed to apologize, make up for me making assumptions. I didn't want to sound like an arrogant asshole, but girls were usually trying to get in my pants. Fucking helped me concentrate.

  Sarah was the makeup artist for the day. She immediately set to work, talking about fuck knows what, while I sat stewing in my mistakes. This was probably the shit that added to my reputation. I really needed to fix this. How could I tell her it was all a misunderstanding and that some old habits die hard? I wanted to do better, it was just...

  "Hey." I cut off Sarah while she bounced around like a bird. "Is that Alison?"

  Sarah looked behind her at the picture stuck on her mirror. She grinned. Sarah was also a pretty girl, but she was outshone by Alison. "Yeah. We've been best friends for years. Roommates, too. This is actually our first time being able to work together! And thanks to you, she's on set a lot more than she would be usually. I should thank you for being such a bad boy."

  Sarah winked at me, like it was supposed to be a compliment, but it just made me feel like shit. "Happy to help."

  "She acts like she's put off by having to watch you, but I think she likes it because it gives her more time out here. She's usually all behind the scenes, before the cameras start rolling, but now she gets to watch the fruits of her labor. And man, did she labor."

  A strange feeling crept over me. One I didn't feel often.

  Guilt.

  "I'm really grateful for her. This opportunity has been amazing." I didn't know if Alison would have told everyone about me in the trailer, but I needed to start cauterizing this. Jack Steele was good at many things, but apologizing wasn't one of them. "That she even took a chance on me is... wow."

  "She really believes in you."

  Gut. Punch. "What's she like, outside of work?"

  Sarah pursed her lips and stared me down in the mirror, a smile tugging on the corners of her mouth and eyes. "Why do you want to know?"

  Oh, shit. Did she know? "I want to find a way to thank her for doing all this extra work just to get me on set. Not a lot of people would be willing to take a chance on me."

  "I think you're wrong there, but thanking the woman who helped you is never a bad thing. We're so undervalued here sometimes." Sarah let out a huge sigh. "She mostly just works all the time. The last time we had a break, she drove halfway across the country to see Maroon5 play because she was locked in a casting office when they played in LA. Aside from that, she likes shitty scary movies. And dancing. If I can ever get her to go out, she always wants to go dancing. But I guess you knew that already."

  She looked at me very knowingly. I couldn't help but grin like an asshole back. That pole dance was a treasured memory in the spank bank. "I think everyone here doesn't get to enjoy life as much as they want."

  "True." Sarah stepped back and cocked her head. "God, guys are so easy. You don't even understand."

  I was about to ask more about Alison, because liking Maroon5 was not exactly the inside information I was looking for, when yelling from over the wall broke out. Everyone stopped what they were doing, like gazelles on the plains, and hurried over to the curtain to see what was going on.

  I grabbed my script and cut through the crowd. Standing in the center was that dude who hated my guts... Josh something-rather? He flailed his arms around and shoved the script in Denver's face with more attitude than anyone should ever show to a director, much less Denver Latmini. What was this dude's problem?

  "It's bullshit and you know it!" Josh flapped his script again. "Who the hell approved this? My character would not say this shit. I think I would know better than anyone, Denver. He's mine."

  "Josh, you need to calm down—"

  "Remember Jimmy Dean, Denver! He didn't want to accept that drink from the guy he hated because he understood the character’s motivations. The director didn't listen to him and later regretted the fuck out of it because he knew James Dean was right!"

  "Are you trying to compare yourself to one of the greatest actors of all time?" I interrupted, coming up behind Denver to rest a hand on his shoulder. "You, the dude who has like twenty minutes of air time in a two-hour lon
g movie, are trying to compare yourself to James Dean?"

  Josh's whole face went red. "This doesn't concern you."

  "Doesn't concern me? Bro, the entire set can hear you. Cast, crew, God…even that homeless dude dancing with his dick out for cash a few blocks away. Let me clue you in on a little secret, homeslice. You don't get to start making demands until you're a headliner. And even then, you better know what the fuck you're asking for and why."

  The little dude turned a deeper shade of red. "Fuck off, Steele. You have no business telling me about set manners. Everyone knows about you."

  "You're right. I'm an asshole. I fuck assistants and break props and show up late. That's what you've heard, right?"

  He didn't say anything, but sure looked smug as hell.

  "But I have always respected the scriptwriters and the director, because that's how I keep my fucking job. You clearly don't know your goddamn place, because you are getting in the face of one of the most brilliant minds in Hollywood because you don't know how to find your goddamn motivation."

  "Like you're so great?" Josh scoffed back at me. "Like you know what you're doing up here? You're just a meathead who—"

  "Hey, Little Dick, your insecurity is showing." I jabbed a finger in his shoulder. "If you want to get anywhere in this business, shut your goddamned trap and pay attention to the people who know what the hell they are doing."

  "That's enough, guys." Denver put his hands between us and pushed. "No fighting on the set."

  "I'm not going to fight, Denver, because I'm a professional, unlike JV Club over here. You need to prove yourself before you start slinging around demands, little man. No one will take you fucking seriously if you act like this."

  Everyone in the room was staring at us. Josh took a minute to look, too, and he went from bright red to ashen. "What are you all looking at?" he yelled.

  "Yelling at the crew won't help your shit, either." I bulked myself up as large as I could go and crossed my arms. Big. Imposing. "Do I need to help you find your motivation to play this shit-eating character? I'd be happy to help."