Hollywood Lights

by Lana Xavier

  Hollywood Lights

  Written by Lana Xavier.

  Text copyright 2015 by Lana Xavier. All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the author.

  This is a work of fiction. Any names or characters, businesses or places, events or incidents, are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  * This work was previously published in serial format under a different title and author name. *

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter One

  I glared at the screen of incoming and outgoing flights with my mouth hanging wide open. Every single flight had ‘DELAYED’ listed beside it and I got the sinking feeling that I was going to be stuck in this airport for a lot longer that I had originally anticipated.

  A loud crack of thunder made a group of older women and myself jump as it seemingly shook the glass windows. Airport employees were hustling people away from the glass, trying to shout over the collective voices that there was a hurricane rolling through and it wasn’t safe to stand near the windows.

  Well, that explains the delays.

  With a heavy sigh, I reached into my pocket for my cell phone, prepared to dial the number of the production studio and explain why I was going to be late for my meeting. I scrolled through my contact list until I reached the number, then frowned as my phone powered down.

  Damn it!

  I angrily shoved it back into the safety of my pocket and picked up my carry-on bag, making my way over to the map of the airport. I noticed a bar located in the wing I was in and hustled towards it, hoping that I’d be able to find an empty plug I could use to charge my phone while also getting something to drink.

  Unfortunately, I wasn’t the only person who had decided that having a drink would be a good way to pass the time. The bar was ridiculously crowded and I clutched my messenger bag close to my body as I made my way through the clustered groups of people. I looked around for an empty table or chair but it looked like every last seat was occupied.

  Then I spotted a single empty barstool at a small table in the corner. The table was occupied by one man, his back facing me as he hunched over his cell phone. I wondered if he had a travelling companion that was in the bathroom or something, but ultimately decided that it wouldn’t hurt to ask either way.

  I made my way over to him and held up my hand, debating as to whether or not I should tap him on the shoulder. I was a touchy person by nature, but I knew many people didn’t appreciate having their personal space invaded by strangers.

  So instead of drawing his attention by touch, I cleared my throat and said, “Excuse me.”

  The man jerked upright in his seat and spun around, his eyes covered with aviator sunglasses and a baseball cap pulled low on his head.

  “What?” he snapped.

  I reared back little, unsure as to what I did to provoke such an angry response. I felt my confidence waver as I choked out, “I-I was just wondering-”

  He growled, he actually growled, and pulled off his sunglasses, dropping them carelessly on the table as he dryly declared, “Yes, I’m Caleb Bradshaw. You want a picture?”

  My jaw dropped open as I realized that, yes, he was Caleb Bradshaw.

  Ultra famous movie star Caleb fucking Bradshaw.

  I hadn’t realized that when I approached him and while I wasn’t usually the type to be star-struck, I couldn’t help but to be incredibly nervous as I found myself pinned with his fiery blue gaze.

  “Well?”

  His smooth voice pulled me back to the moment and I remembered why I had come over in the first place. “Oh— No, I don’t want a picture. Not that I’m not a fan or anything— I love your work— I was just wondering if this chair is taken?” I asked unsurely, gesturing to the open stool beside him. He stared blankly at me so I lamely added, “It’s the only empty one left.”

  He glanced behind him at the crowded bar then back at me, his eyes moving up and down my body for a long moment while I shuffled the weight of my bags around uncomfortably.

  He huffed a little before waving his hand at the seat dismissively and stated, “It’s all yours.”

  “Thank you,” I said gratefully, sending him a genuine smile as he moved some of his belongings to the side to make room for my own.

  I pulled my messenger bag over my shoulder and sat it gently on the chair before shedding my jacket and draping it over the low back of the stool. I placed my carry-on against the wall before digging the screenplay from my bag along with a red pen. Once I had something to do, I placed the messenger on top of my duffle and sat down, glancing around the place to see if I could manage to snag the attention of a waitress.

  It appeared that all the wait-staff had been delegated to cooking and serving at the bar, which was understandable considering how busy it was. I thought about asking Caleb to watch my stuff while I went for a drink, but it the idea of leaving all of my belongings with a total stranger made me nervous, especially considering how hostile he had been to me thus far.

  So I sighed and settled back into the stool, ignoring the dryness of my throat as I opened my screenplay and started to read through the notes on what the studio wanted rewritten.

  Within seconds, I could feel his gaze boring into me again. I did my best to ignore his fervent stare, but I could feel my traitorous body responding to the attention, my cheeks heating up with a pink blush.

  When I dared to glance up at his face, he was smirking cockily at the sight of my blush. I couldn’t fight it though, having my skin tone made it impossible to hide such a reaction.

  “Can I help you?” I asked with a scowl, quickly becoming irritated at his constant attention.

  “Can I help you?” he parroted back, putting a heavy emphasis on the end of his question.

  I ignored the sexual undertone in his voice, all too aware of what Caleb was like. Well, I knew how the media painted him at least. A filthy rich, womanizing playboy who broke hearts for sport and could get any woman he wanted with the bat of his pretty blue eyes.

  Well, not this woman. I had the bad habit of wearing my heart on my sleeve which had opened me up to fake friends and users my entire life.

  Not anymore.

  “No,” I finally answered him, turning my body away from his as I attempted to turn my attention back to my work.

  But I could feel the butterflies in my stomach fluttering about as he continued to look my way.

  “You sure? Cause you look awfully thirsty.”

  Just the mention of a drink made my mouth water and I looked up just in time to watch him take the final swig of his beer. He titled the bottle in mid-air, pointing it my way as he said, “I’m going to get another. If you watch my bag for me, I’ll gladly grab one for you as well.”

  I followed the direction of his hand as he pointed to his duffle bag, then looked back to his face. I was surprised that he would trust someone he just met with his stuff, but then again, he could afford to replace anything that went missing.

  “I’ll watch your bag in exchange for a Guinness.”

  Caleb
grinned and nodded. “I’ll be right back then.”

  I watched him leave our little table then I looked around to make sure no one was near enough to swipe any of his belongings. Thankfully, we were in a rather deserted corner, the closest table to ours was a good ten feet away and we were far enough away from the bar that nobody was lingering around.

  A few minutes later, a napkin was placed in front of me and a bottle of beer on top of that. I gulped at his close proximity, taking a deep breath in and picking up the delectable scent of his cologne.

  Caleb Bradshaw is trouble. Do not engage.

  Even though my brain was warning me to leave him alone, I couldn’t let the nice gesture go without at least thanking him.

  “Thank you so much. How much was it? I can pay you—”

  He cut me off with a wave of his hand. “Please. Like I can’t afford to buy a pretty lady a beer.”

  I felt goosebumps rise on my arms as he referred to me as ‘pretty’. Just as soon as it happened though, I reminded myself that this was just a game to him. Turn on the charm, use women for sex—then lather, rinse, and repeat.

  Nope. Not me. Nuh-uh.

  Caleb leaned close and shot me a small smile as he said, “You’re adorable when you blush.”

  Damn it all to hell.

  “Just— Thank you again for the beer, but you can stop with the phony compliments. I’m not interested.”

  My words didn’t deter him— quite the opposite in fact. His smile grew wider as he looked me up and down and I realized, to my horror, that he thought I was just playing hard to get. As soon as I opened my mouth to set the record straight, he cut me off.

  “So what are you working on?” he asked conversationally, motioning to the script I was nervously clutching in my hands.

  I loosened my hold on the papers, setting them down on the table as I replied, “I’m doing rewrites on a screenplay.”

  His eyes widened for a second, his expression mildly impressed, before he tilted his head to the side and studied me with a suspicious look. “You don’t look like a screenwriter.”

  “Well, this is actually my first script. It’s an adaptation of one of my books.”

  “An author, huh? What do you write, romance? Ooh, is it erotic romance?”

  I frowned. “What, you think that since I’m a woman I can only write romance?”

  He raised his hands in the air in mock-surrender, but the smirk didn’t leave his face. “I didn’t say that.”

  “You implied it,” I argued.

  “Did I?”

  I cocked my head to the side and stared at him incredulously. Is this guy for real? I shook my head angrily, turning my gaze back to my script. “It’s not a romance.”

  “So what is it?”

  “A psychological thriller,” I said as I dropped the script back on the table and leaned back in my seat, accepting the fact that he obviously wasn’t planning on leaving me alone any time soon. “But my work surely isn’t as interesting as yours. I just write—You actually play the roles.”

  The smile dropped off his face the moment I finished speaking. His eyes became stormy as he pulled out his phone and looked down at it distractedly while he stated, “I’d rather not talk about my work.”

  I waited a few minutes for him to say something else, but he didn’t even turn back to look at me.

  Talk about mood swings.

  I went back to my work and tried to remind myself that it was what I wanted to do in the first place, but his abrupt dismissal had thrown me for a loop and I could barely concentrate on the pages. Every now and then, I’d glance up, noting with a scowl that he still refused to even look my way.

  What a jerk.

  If he’s such a jerk, why are you so offended?

  I grunted to myself irritably before I lifted the screenplay closer to my face to block him from my vision.

  My plan worked. Keeping Caleb out of my sight made it easier for me to focus on the notes from the studio and I began doing the rewrites that were requested. Half an hour flew by in the blink of an eye, right up until I realized that I had finished my beer.

  I glanced back, noticing that the wait staff was still being overwhelmed by all the people currently stuck waiting for the storm to pass. With a heavy sigh, I resigned myself to working for the time being and getting a drink later on.

  My empty bottle lifted off the table and I looked up at Caleb questioningly. His expression was neutral as he took our empty bottles up to the bar, tossing them into a trash can and ordering two more. When he returned to the table and sat mine in front of me, I quietly thanked him for the second time. He didn’t respond verbally, just nodded before turning his attention back to his cell phone.

  His behavior was rather unsettling to me. It was like he could flip a switch between being a total dick and a complete gentleman.

  He’s an actor. It’s what he does.

  I side-eyed him curiously, wondering which of the two faces he had shown me was his true self, and which was the facade.

  And at the same time, I wondered why I was so determined to find out.

  * * *

  I was halfway through my rewrites and on my fourth beer when it hit me.

  I squirmed around uncomfortably in my seat, willing away the desire to get up to use the restroom and give up my spot sitting beside Caleb Bradshaw.

  We still hadn’t spoken since he dismissed my comment about his work. He would silently get us both beers whenever we were out and I continued to thank him, but for the most part, we sat together in an awkward silence.

  Needless to say, I was hesitant to walk away just yet. I was still far too curious about the man sitting beside me, almost to the point that it was becoming hard to think about anything else, including my screenplay.

  And my bladder. Can’t forget my bladder.

  No, I couldn’t have forgotten about the pressing need to pee even if I tried. I bounced up and down in my seat, doing a sitting version of the pee-pee dance, and Caleb glanced my way with a knowing smile.

  “Need the restroom?”

  “That obvious?”

  “Well you’re bouncing around over there around like your pants are on fire which tends to only mean one thing,” he said as he stood up and pulled his leather jacket from the back of his chair. “Come on, I’ll walk with you.”

  My eyes widened with surprise. “You’re giving up your seat. You know someone will snag the table as soon as we leave and it’s going to be impossible to find another one.”

  He shrugged. “I’m getting bored. You can use the bathroom and then we can just walk around for a while. If you want to, of course.”

  I began to stand up and gather my stuff as I replied, “That sounds good. Where are we walking?”

  “I don’t know. It’s a big airport though. Plenty of places to explore.” He pulled his lower lip between his teeth and waggled his eyebrows, the expression reminding me of a kid who was finally old enough to be allowed to explore the woods behind his house.

  I smiled as we made our way out of the bar and, sure enough, our table and seats were descended upon before we even made it all the way out. Caleb pulled his ball cap lower on his head as he led me to the bathroom and leaned against the wall outside.

  “You can leave your stuff with me,” he offered. “I promise I won’t dig through your bag looking for your underwear.”

  “That’s an oddly specific promise to make,” I noted warily, smiling when he laughed out loud. I dropped my duffle bag beside his feet and darted into the restroom before I could change my mind.

  After I was done, I stood at the sink and washed my hands. I looked up at my reflection, wincing when I noticed the bags beneath my eyes and how awful my hair looked. Not that my hair was ever lush enough to be in a shampoo commercial or anything, but I typically took a little bit more pride in my appearance than the image that was currently being reflected back at me suggested.

  I dabbed a little water on the flyaway hairs and dug through my messeng
er back for my eyeliner. After locating the stick, I paused with my hand halfway to my eye, wondering what Caleb would say if I came out of the bathroom with a face full of makeup on.

  Deciding that I didn’t want to find out what kind of impression that might leave on him, I recapped the eyeliner and shoved it deep in my bag, turning away from the mirror and heading towards the exit.

  It’s not like he hasn’t already seen the train wreck, I thought wryly.

  I wasn’t prepared for the sight before me as I came out of the bathroom. Caleb was still holding his spot beside my bag, but a small group of girls had gathered around him, taking selfies and holding out random things while demanding autographs.

  I stood to the side as I waited for the girls to disperse, not wanting any random fan to get the wrong impression if I saddled up beside him. I leaned against the wall and crossed my arms over my chest, watching the scene play out with a small frown.

  Caleb smiled for the photos, but I could somehow sense the fakeness of it, even with the distance between us. He didn’t look entirely ungrateful he just seemed… tired. I suddenly felt the urge to badger him with questions about how he dealt with the fame, but knew I couldn’t do so without risking another total shut out like he had given me earlier.

  So I just waited until he noticed me and watched as he politely disengaged himself from his fans, who pouted when he lifted my bag in the air and began to walk away. He breezed past me with a hushed, “Follow me.”

  I did as he asked but made sure to wait a moment before doing so, staying a few steps behind him so we wouldn’t wind up photographed together by the girls who were still lurking nearby.

  He went down an escalator and I got on a good ten steps behind him. I glanced back, noticing that, thankfully, the girls had drawn the line at stalking him underground.

  Once they were out of sight, I stepped down lower, stopping right behind him and whispering in his ear, “They’re gone.”

  He looked back at me with a smile. “Good looking out. And thanks.”

  “For what?”

  “For staying back. Not many people would’ve thought to do that.”