by Frankie Love
“Maybe we let too many people in the club last night. Too many new faces. But even if we did, it wasn’t Jules.”
“How can you be sure?” Jordan asks. “We have to assume it could be anyone.”
“You want me to assume it was you, then?” I ask, cocking an eyebrow at him.
Jordan pushes his lips forward. “No, I don’t want that. This job means everything to me. I’ve lived and breathed this place, I’d never do—”
I cut him off. “Then believe me when I say Jules wouldn’t have either.”
Jordan narrows his eyes at me. “You’re going to trust a woman you just met?”
“You want me to trust my manager who just so happened to call all the bouncers out of my club the moment shit went down for the first time within the walls of the A-List?”
“Look,” Jordan says, straightening his tie. “It’s messed up, okay? But I’m on your side. I just think you oughta watch your back with this girl.”
I don’t want to listen to him, but I’d be lying if I said there wasn’t some trace of worry inside me, wondering if Jules had any part of this. I want to believe her hands are clean… Hell, she’s the one who sent me the link when the story was leaked. But maybe that was a cover too.
Taking another hard look at Jordan, I know he’s as suspect as anyone, no matter how long we’ve been working together.
This city wasn’t built on loyalty. It was built on the idea of every man for himself.
And right now, I need to find out who my real friends are. And who sold out my oldest one.
9
The pictures in the online magazine only confirm what a bad idea going to the A-List Fuck Club was.
Gretchen’s reaction, however, is unsettling. “This is the best publicity I could have dreamed of;” She sighs in the dressing room before our photo shoot. We’ve all just arrived here, the call for this shoot being after lunch. Awesome, because a full belly is exactly what I want when wearing a swimsuit.
I’ve already clocked in half a day’s work. If people say being a model isn’t hard work, they’ve never had to stand perfectly still for hours at a time, smiling just so for an aggressive cameraman who is unsatisfied with the size of your thighs. I was glad to leave this morning’s solo shoot and come here, where all three of us are doing a coveted spread for Sports Illustrated.
Our agent, Danny Bruneau, came here to show Gretchen the link, and since then she’s been beaming like she just won an Oscar. These photos, apparently, L.A.’s version of the holy grail, show Gretchen as an up-and-coming model stark naked on the lap of superstar actor Sawyer Bennett.
Even our agent, Danny, seems pleased with them. He said any press is good press. But there’s no way that can be true. Bad press can ruin lives and careers.
Can’t it? Besides, there is a cost involved in every choice we make.
Personally, I find this price way too high. It reminds me that this town isn’t a place to ever let your guard down and confirms that I’ll never hook up with the Hollywood Elite. No question about it.
It also makes my sleepover at Callahan’s last night that much sweeter. He isn’t some famous person with plans to strike it rich. He’s a bartender who wears blue jeans and rides a vintage motorcycle. My body tingles all over, remembering last night, giving him my virginity. A smile spreads across my face as I think about our date in a few days.
I cinch the belt of my bathrobe, waiting for the make-up artist, Tana, to tell me where to sit, when to lift my chin, and blink my eyes. In the meantime, I listen to my roommates gush about what this could mean.
“Even without Danny’s connections, you’ll totally be invited back to the Fuck Club,” Collette says before taking a sip of sparkling water. Her eyes are as bright as Gretchen’s, soaking up the scandal as if it were her own.
“Well, and you can totally come with anytime, of course,” Gretchen says. “I mean, I was happy that he even wanted me to come to a room with him... but the fact we’re currently trending on Twitter? It’s too good to be true.”
I try not to roll my eyes too aggressively. I’ve only known my roommates for a few weeks, and in that time, it’s clear we aren’t exactly cut from the same cloth, but we’ve shared an easy-going friendship. But the fact they’re relishing over this tabloid article? It’s unsettling.
“Don’t you think this could really mess up Sawyer’s career? Isn’t he dating his co-star Sondra Summers?”
Gretchen frowns. “This is a business, Juliana.”
I twist my lips. “Sure, but—”
Collette frowns. “Juliana, any press is good press. And not just for Gretch. For Sawyer Bennett too.”
I consider her words, not being naïve enough to think publicity doesn’t matter in this industry. We’re selling ourselves, our assets, our asses. And Gretchen’s ass got amazing coverage today.
“I get what you’re saying. I just want you to be happy at the end of the day.”
Gretchen laughs, flipping her hair like a diva. “Honey, this is the time of our lives. I’ve never been happier.”
I shake my head laughing despite the differences in the way we view this.
“Speaking of having the time of our lives… Where did you disappear to last night? You sent us some text about not coming home. So, where exactly did our innocent roommate disappear to?”
I know I’m blushing before they even call me out on it. But I can’t help it. Last night was incredible and it’s impossible to hide from them.
Our make-up artists direct us to chairs and begin coating our faces in thick concealer. Bright white lights shine on our faces and the artists are up close and personal, not hesitating for a moment to lean into our non-existent personal space to dab and swipe.
“Did you seriously sleep with someone?” Collette asks. “I mean. Talk about going from zero to one hundred.”
I try to remain still, but feel the artists doing our make-up exchanging looks, and I feel my hands shake. What I experienced last night was special, and the last thing I want is for it to become another tabloid story.
“Honey,” Tana says as she bronzes my cheekbones, “we’ve heard it all.”
Gretchen laughs, “But our sweetie is a V-I-R-G--”
“We got it,” I say, cutting her off, not wanting this to become a bigger thing than necessary. “I did go home with someone last night. But I don’t kiss and tell.”
“Okay,” Collette snorts. “But the question is, do you fuck and tell?”
I laugh, trying hard to remain still as Tana brushes my eyelids with sparkling sand-colored eyeshadow. “Oh, my God, is this a frat house? I swear you two are worse than high school horn-dogs.”
I watch the mirror with one open eye as Collette pouts. “Aww, we just want to know what hottie celeb took you on your first ride at the rodeo.”
“What is this, an episode of the Bachelor? I swear!” my face reddens through the foundation––an impressive feat.
“My question is,” Gretchen says in a hushed voice, as if anything said in this dressing room is for our ears only. “Why in the world would you leave the club? Do you know how sexy the rooms are upstairs?”
I bristle at her words, not wanting to seem judgmental or superior... but the fact is I do feel a little... well, let’s just say I’ve stuck to my ideals as far as sleeping with someone goes. I don’t want to be with any celebrity. I want a real, down-to-Earth guy. A guy like Callahan.
But I also remember how I told Callahan how I would go to those roos with him another time.
So, I don’t think I’m above them. But, I also don’t want to become them.
“I didn’t leave with a guest,” I tell them quietly.
“What does that mean?” Collette asks.
“It means she hooked up with someone who wouldn’t have been allowed in a room,” Tana says with a smirk. “Someone like an employee.”
I shoot her a scowl. Would Cal not have been allowed in one of the rooms? It sounded like he could have taken me to any of them the
n and there.
Then again, he was the one who wanted to leave. Maybe he thought I’d think less of him if he didn’t have access to the private rooms meant for guests.
“What?” she says, grinning, her teeth white and straight and beautiful. “I’m right, aren’t I?”
I sigh, and my lack of resistance to her words admits plenty.
“Why would you leave with a bouncer or whatever,” Gretchen asks, “when you could literally hook-up with any celebrity who was there?”
I purse my lips together, knowing they wouldn’t understand.
They hadn’t had his lips on their mouths or their thighs spread apart by his hands or his cock inside their bodies.
They saw the world differently and that meant they would always miss the rough stones while they were busy looking for perfect gems.
But I have a feeling they’ll only end up with fool’s gold if the only thing they are searching for is fame.
“Look at her,” Collette says. “Her lips are sealed.”
Gretchen pouts. “That’s no fun. I’ll tell you everything you want to know about Sawyer.”
Collette’s eyes sparkle, the make-up artists lean in, all wanting juicy bits of gossip.
Me? I lean back in my chair, looking at my phone, debating whether or not calling Cal tonight is the cool thing to do.
I’ve never cared about being cool before. I shouldn’t start now.
I want to see him.
Soon.
It’s only Friday and I don’t think I can wait until our date on Monday.
I think I need to go to the Fuck Club and let him know I want more than dinner and a movie.
I need to let him know that I want him again, tonight. At the club.
The idea in and of itself sends a wave of unease through me. Why would I consider this after what just happened to Gretchen?
But I’m not Gretchen, and Callahan is certainly not a guy like Sawyer. I trust that Cal wouldn’t lead me somewhere that might be compromising. Which may make me an idiot. I hardly know Callahan at all. One night is not very much.
Yet our time together felt like so much more.
And even with all the red flags of returning, my body already craves more of what it had last night.
Him.
Looking over at my roommates I ask as nonchalantly as possible, “Want to go back to the club tonight?”
They shriek in delight.
Tana finishes my lipstick and I look in the mirror.
It’s bright red.
I won’t be washing that off anytime soon.
Tonight, Cal can kiss it off.
And then some.
“Tana,” I say. “Do you think after the photo shoot you could give me smoky eyes?”
She smiles wide. “Only if you let me dress you too, the blue jeans and basic white tee you wore in here need to be thrown in the garbage.”
“Deal,” I tell her. “Tonight I want to look like walking sex.”
Gretchen laughs in shock. “What happened to you?”
“Besides getting laid for the first time in her life?” Collette asks.
I shrug, taking the string bikini I’m to wear for the shoot from the woman from wardrobe. “I told you I wasn’t a prude—I just needed to meet a guy I wanted.”
“And you found him?” Tana asks.
I smile. “I think so.”
10
After calling Sawyer half a dozen times, there’s still no answer. I’m not trying to harp on him or anything, but I also want to make sure he’s okay.
Those photos were more than incriminating.
I can just hear his parents, Sophia and Henry, lamenting their son’s choices. If Sawyer is of the Hollywood Elite, his parents are a different sort of HE: The Highest Echelon. My parents were their best friends and Sawyer and I grew up thick as thieves.
So, I can just imagine Sophia’s reaction. “Our little Sawyer has forgotten every good thing we’ve taught him.”
In some ways, I don’t envy him that. With my parents having passed, there aren’t the same kind of expectations on me as there are on him. No one asks when I’m settling down, if I’ve had my share as a playboy. No one, that is, besides Sawyer’s mother whenever she’s in town.
That idea allows me to relax for the first time since I said goodbye to Jules in the early hours of the morning. I’m betting the reason Sawyer isn’t answering my calls is because he’s busy dealing with his old lady.
Not to mention his agent, publicist, and Sondra.
“Hey, man,” I say, leaving him a voicemail. “Just wanted to make sure you hadn’t spiraled out. I bet you’re dealing with all kinds of shit, but if you need to talk, call me. Or better yet, come to the club tonight. It’s the last place anyone would expect to find you. Talk soon.”
I pocket my phone and head to the bar. Once everything’s prepped for tonight, I pull out my laptop, discreetly checking the evening guest list that Jordan sent over. I’m surprised to see Danny’s girls, Gretchen, Collette, and Jules all listed.
I frown. One, Gretchen coming here after today’s magazine spread is a bold move. The last thing we need here is paparazzi following her out tonight, getting eyes on the club. I sure as fuck hope Jordan made it crystal clear that no one is to come with an entourage.
Two, I can’t deny the unsettled feeling I have at seeing Jules’ name on this list. She made it pretty damn clear how she felt about this place, the people here, what it represented—in her mind.
The fact she decided to come out for the second night in a row forces me to consider Jordan’s words from earlier.
Can I trust her?
She said she hated this place and then less than a day later she’s back? It doesn’t exactly add up.
Unless she wants a piece of the attention Gretchen’s clearly going to receive tonight.
I message Jordan, making sure we have even more security around the premises tonight. Checking my watch, I see it’s after nine. People will start showing up in an hour or so. We can’t have a repeat of last night, no matter what.
Jordan wants to close the doors tonight... but that’s the last thing I want to do. Those thugs that were here last night will think we’re weak, and whoever took the photographs will think they won… something. Exactly what, I’m not sure.
Hours pass and I haven’t seen Danny Bruneau’s girls. Truth is, now that I know they’re on the guest list, I can’t help but feel agitated. Why is Jules coming? I’d text her, but we made plans for Monday. After exchanging a few texts earlier after she sent me the link to the photographs, it’s not like I’m gonna start stalking her about her plans tonight. Besides, I’m just a bartender. I shouldn’t even have access to things like the guest list.
Danny’s sitting on a couch nursing his vodka soda, looking sad as fuck, and I almost consider going over and asking about his sick wife, when his girls show.
Jordan isn’t giving them an easy time, and I wish I were a little closer so I could hear what they’re saying. With his arms crossed, he looks leery of the trio of supermodels. I have to give him some credit. Most men would fall on their face with three women this gorgeous in front of them.
I see Jules shake her head, incredulous. Then she reaches into her purse and hands him her phone. Frowning, she walks away dropping her coat off at the check.
That’s when I see her in all her glory. Her long dark hair swishing as she walks. Her lips bright red, her eyes smoky—with a fire behind them; a plan. Last time she was here she wore a nondescript mini-dress... but now everyone notices her. Sheer black lace, a corset underneath that pushes her breasts high, her heels covered in gems, every step across the room a glittering announcement of her arrival.
Damn, she looks like she knows exactly who she is, and how she got here. When she leans over and gives Danny a hug and kiss on the cheek, I swear I see her ass cheeks too. My cock gets hard, imagining what I could do with her.
But some other men get to her first. I mix drinks for the waitresses and t
ry to focus on making a dirty martini. But the only dirty thing I want is her.
Now.
Jordan walks over to me, speaking low. “We have backup outside, we saw the Russian Mob’s cars circling earlier, but I haven’t seen them for the last half-hour. And the Bruneau girls played by the rules I gave them. They arrived without any fanfare—not sure how they pulled that off.”
“And I saw you confiscated Jules’ phone?”
Jordan shakes his head. “No, she gave it to me when I asked what part she played in the leaked photos.”
“Do you believe her?” I don’t know if I should trust Jordan—but I have to ask the question. Have to know what his read is on her. In fact, it might tell me where he stands.
He runs his hand over his jaw. “Look, I don’t know. I wish I did. It makes me feel like shit, not knowing who took those photos. This club is my life, Cal.”
I nod, wanting to keep the conversation on the down low as another waitress comes over for the tray of drinks I made.
“You ever think about coming clean, Cal?” Jordan asks once the girl has left. “You really see yourself behind the bar forever?”
I take a hard look at him. “You know the thugs from last night wanted to know who the owner wwas. Now you want me to out myself? What the fuck?”
Jordan’s eyes narrow. “That’s not what I meant, Cal. I swear it.”
I don’t fucking care what he meant. Everything about this day has gone wrong. From Jules leaving early this morning to the leaked photos––and then Sawyer going MIA. I don’t know who to trust when it feels like everyone is against me. Every time I think about the fact that Sawyer hasn’t returned my calls since I left him at the bar, I get a little more anxious. Hell, I know he’s a grown-ass man, but when shit gets real, he usually spirals out pretty damn fast. He drinks and does his best to black out.
Right now, with the shit going down at the club, I can’t lose my best friend to a week-long binge.
I look across the club, see Jules. Her eyes have already found mine.