Lilia’s house was a-ma-zing! It was huge, surrounded with palm trees, and looked like it just floated off a movie set. I loved it. This was living!
An equally enormous security guard stood at the gates, checking names off against a list. It must have been hot in that suit. I wondered if he had a gun. I suddenly noticed that he was wearing one of those FBI-type earpieces, and Rhonda’s words about ‘the big time’ came back to me. What was it like to live like this? I mean, it was better than just about any other job I could think of, but that didn’t mean to say it wasn’t without cost – personal cost. Needing a security guard for a house party was only one example. Back in London, parties were three mates with a six-pack of beer, and pizza for a touch of class.
“Man! Look at this place!” The taxi driver shook his head in awe. “Who you gotta sleep with to live in a place like this?”
That seemed a bit unfair. I mean, Lilia was really nice and not at all starry. But I guessed there would always be people who’d think that sort of shit. I wondered vaguely who they’d be saying I slept with to get this gig. Rhonda? The thought made me laugh, and Clare looked at me curiously.
I paid the driver, remembering Rhonda’s advice to tip well. Clare raised her eyebrows at my largesse. Okay, maybe I overdid it. I wasn’t used to having money – it was hard to get the balance right.
Clare stumbled slightly as she climbed out of the taxi, so I took her hand, all small and warm. She scowled at her sandals, and I glanced down at them in surprise. She normally wore sneakers – and I’d never seen her wear girly stuff like that, strappy and high-heeled. Perhaps that was why she was all over the place in them. It was pretty funny really, but unless I wanted her to punch me in the face, I decided it would be better not to laugh.
“Come on, then,” she muttered. “Let’s meet the great and the good – or the famous and the wealthy.”
I couldn’t help rolling my eyes – there was a bit of inverted snobbery going on. Ah hell, she’d be cool when she met Lilia.
But when uniformed staff greeted us at the front door, Clare wasn’t the only one with nerves. Holy shit! This was seriously rich. Lilia had a butler?!
“Miss Purcell is by the pool, madam, sir. This way.”
Clare threw me a look and tightened her grasp on my hand. For someone pretty small, she had a grip like a WWE wrestler. Same sort of personality, too.
The house was jammed with people, and there were some seriously hot women there. I started getting a bit warm under the collar trying to work out who’d got fake boobs and which ones were real.
“Miles, you’re drooling!” hissed Clare, and I snapped my mouth shut.
But, I mean, come on! Some of those bikinis were so skimpy they may as well not have been wearing anything. Oh hell, I was going to have a problem in a minute. I hoped the water in the swimming pool was cold – I was going to need it.
But poolside, things got even hotter. Or rather, the women got even hotter. Maybe it was like the Elizabethan royal court that Miss Delaney used to try and stuff into my brain during history lessons: the closer you were to the Queen, the more important you were. Minions had to loiter in the outer areas – and then I realized we were being ushered straight to the queen herself: Lilia Purcell, A-lister. Goddess.
She was lying on a sunlounger under an enormous palm fringed parasol. Her bikini looked like it had been spun from pure gold, and her lightly tanned skin was flawless. Oh my fuck. She was gorgeous.
“Hey, Miles! You made it. And you brought a friend?”
Even though I was concentrating on trying not to stare, I could still hear the slight inflection on the word ‘friend’. I guessed she was asking me if Clare was my girlfriend. Did that mean anything?
“Hi, Lilia. Thanks for inviting us. This is my friend Clare, from England.”
“How nice,” said Lilia, frostily.
“Charmed,” replied Clare, raising an eyebrow.
Oh, not good. I was waiting for a referee to call, ‘Seconds out!’
The women eyed each other up, and the temperature dropped to just above freezing. Their body language reminded me of two cats on a fence – and they were stretching their claws.
I shuffled nervously from foot to foot, not sure what to do to calm the situation. Then Lilia sat up and inadvertently gave me an eyeful straight down her cleavage. Fuck. All rational thought was impossible.
“Miles, I need to talk to you about the script. Walk with me.”
It didn’t sound like a request.
Clare narrowed her eyes, and I shook my head at her slightly. I was trying to tell her, This is work – I have no choice, and I hoped she’d get the message. Wow, she looked pissed off.
Lilia grabbed my arm and led me away. Immediately, I was overheating just from the touch of her fingers. This woman was hot! And then I remembered that we were going to be filming sex scenes together. Yeah, I knew it would be PG13 but even so: her, me, bare flesh. Shit! How the hell was I going to deal with that? I knew my face was flushing and Miles Junior wasn’t exactly impervious to Lilia’s serious charms.
But before I knew it, she was introducing me to her friends and it gradually dawned on me that a good number of them were well-known – you know – famous. Not real stars like Lilia, but respected actors from TV. This was so damn weird – me, here, with them. I wondered vaguely where Clare was. Probably off having a good time somewhere. She knew how to enjoy her own company – always had. I kind of envied that.
“So, this is Miles Stephens, my new costar,” cooed Lilia.
I knew that my face had reddened further. I felt so fake, her calling me that. Of course, she knew it was bullshit; there was only one star here – and it wasn’t me. But it was cool of her to say it. That was Lilia: cool. Really fucking cool. And hot.
And then she rested a hand on my chest and my cock leapt to attention.
Clare
That Lilia was a complete bitch. She looked at me like I was some kind of slime on her fancy shoe, and then separated me from Miles with ridiculous ease. With those skills, she’d have aced any sheepdog trials. He didn’t even realize it was happening. That didn’t surprise me – he’d always been dense around women, bless him.
Actually, no. Not ‘bless him’! He’d abandoned me here with a bunch of vacuous strangers who all looked as if they were in need of a decent meal.
“So, what are you?”
“British!” I squawked, as an implausibly gorgeous guy leaned against the wall next to me. He wasn’t even wearing clothes. Well, swimming trunks, but that was all. He looked like a model – he probably was a model. And he’d waxed his chest. Mmmm, nice tattoo. Wonder how far down it went?
He smiled, and I was nearly blinded by the whiteness of his teeth.
“I guessed that,” he grinned.
How? What?
“I meant, are you an actress – or something?”
“Oh. Right. No, I’m a student.”
“Training to be an actress?”
“No, History and English Literature, actually.”
“Huh?” he sounded puzzled; he looked bloody gorgeous. Not as gorgeous as Miles, of course, and there was something calculating about his expression.
“How did you swing an invite?”
“I came with a friend. Lilia invited us.”
His eyes lit up like the Chrysler Building. “Cool! You know Lilia?”
“Not exactly. Rhonda Weitz is my friend’s agent – she talked to Lilia’s agent. Or something.”
“Wow! The Rhonda Weitz – can you hook me up with her? I’m looking for new representation.”
“Er, I don’t think so because…”
I didn’t get the chance to explain further because he shrugged and walked off, flinging a “Take it easy,” over his shoulder.
How rude!
But as the afternoon wore on, the rubbernecking became of epidemic proportions. Every time I thought I was having a conversation with someone, the moment they found out that I wasn’t ‘in the biz�
�, they lost interest. It dawned on me that this wasn’t a social event – it was networking. Everyone wanted something. Were these really Lilia’s friends? Suddenly, unexpectedly, I felt sorry for her.
Now where the hell was the barbecue, where could I get a drink, and what had that maneater done with Miles?
Miles
Everyone was so friendly – Lilia’s friends were totally cool. They were all really interested, asking questions about the film: when would we start shooting; who was the cinematographer; what the schedule was – stuff like that. Luckily, Lilia fielded all those questions which was a good thing, because I was starting to feel buzzed by all the champagne. Every time I turned around, a waiter had refilled my glass. I didn’t even know how much I’d drunk. God, I hoped I didn’t say or do something stupid.
I wished Clare hadn’t buggered off and left me alone. I knew I’d said to her that this was mostly work – did I say that to her? Well, I was sure she knew, but I was starting to feel overwhelmed. All the people I’d met knew so much more about ‘the biz’ than I did. Everyone was either an actor or working on a script. They all had something ‘in production’ and everyone was dropping names like it was going out of fashion. They acted like they owned the world – and they all had great teeth.
Plus, they all seemed to know each other. I was beginning to feel as on-trend as a Betamax video in a Blue Ray world.
When Lilia took yet another phone call, I was relieved to slink away and take a breather from the intensity of the niceness. Everyone had been great – so why did it feel so fake? Maybe because I was the fake. Compared to everyone here, I had almost no credible experience, and that little voice of doubt that told me I was a talentless tosser was becoming deafening. I was regretting signing the damn contract – I was going to look such a bloody idiot.
It felt like everyone was staring at me, wondering what sort of loser Lilia had hooked up with; probably feeling sorry for her having to work with such a rank amateur. Fuck – I was losing it.
When my hands started to shake, I knew I had to get a grip.
Where the hell was Clare?
Then I spotted her by the buffet – of course. The amazing spread had hardly been touched. Did anyone here ever eat? I knew I should probably get some scran to ease up the effects of the alcohol but I was aware that filming was due to start in ten days and, according to both Hilda and Rhonda, I still need to lose more weight. The camera adds 20 pounds.
But I could enjoy watching Clare eat.
“Hi, hon. Having fun?”
“Oh, just wonderful,” she snarled.
I was taken aback.
“What’s wrong?”
“How can you stand it?” she huffed at me, and I immediately felt irritated. What was her problem?
“What do you mean?”
She waved her arms around. “This! They’re all so… so… actory.”
I couldn’t believe she was being so snooty. This was my work.
“I’m an actor, Clare.” Trying to be.
She raised her eyebrows. “I don’t mean you, Miles. Obviously. It’s just that… oh well, never mind. How are you doing with Miss High and Mighty?”
“Lilia’s been really nice to me,” I said, my voice warning her off the bulldog routine. “It was nice of her to invite us.”
“Oh yes. Very nice,” she replied in a snarky tone.
Okay, now she was pissing me off.
“What’s your problem, Clare?”
“My problem, Miles,” she spat out, “is that this is all so fake and you’re just lapping it up. This place is really changing you – you used to laugh at people like this. Now you’re all…”
She stopped suddenly.
“I’m all what, Clare?”
I was breathing hard and glaring at her.
“Never mind.”
“No, go on. Say what you think – you always say what you think, don’t you? That’s your thing, isn’t it, honesty? Come on, Clare, be honest with me… I’m all what?”
She scowled. “You’re not you.”
What the fuck?
“What’s that supposed to mean? Or maybe you mean I’m just not that pathetic loser I used to be. Except that I am, aren’t I. Don’t you think I don’t know that I don’t fit in here? Everyone is somebody and I’m just a nobody with big dreams. If that’s what you wanted to say, friend, then feel free.”
Her face went red, and I didn’t know if she was angry or upset.
But then she went in a different direction.
“What did Lilia have to say about the script?”
“What?”
“She said she wanted to talk to you about the script?”
Oh, yeah. “We didn’t get to that.”
She raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms, a mulish expression on her face. “What a surprise.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I sounded like a fucking broken record.
She rolled her eyes.
“Well?”
“Oh, come on, Miles! It’s just so obvious.”
“Not to me.”
“She wanted to get you away from me. She fancies the pants off you. She looks at you the way I look at chocolate.”
“She doesn’t.”
“Yes, she does.”
I ran my hands through my hair in frustration. “She’s a fucking film star, Clare.”
“Yeah, and? Miles, you’re co-starring with her in the film version of a book that was in the New York Times bestseller list for a year or something. You’ll be a film star, too, after all this.”
“That’s not going to happen.”
She sighed and I didn’t know if it was in frustration, irritation, or both. This was Clare, so it was probably both.
“Didn’t you listen to what Laura Dorien said to you: ‘Are you ready to be the next It Guy?’ Remember?”
“Don’t do this, Clare.”
“Don’t do what?”
“You’re freaking me out.”
“This is what you said you wanted, Miles. Perhaps you should just make up your bloody mind and stop being so…”
I didn’t know if I wanted her to finish that sentence or not. We stood glaring at each other, until she said, “I want to go home.”
I was so fucking furious with her right then. “Fine. I’ll call you a cab.”
I turned my back on her and pulled out my cell phone, dialing quickly.
“The taxi will be here in 10 minutes.”
She stared at me, biting her lip. “Are you coming with me?”
“No.”
I knew I was being a dick, but I thought it was best if we just kept some distance from each other now. God, that sounded so weird – I’d never wanted to keep my distance from Clare before.
A hurt look flashed across her face but then her naturally pugnacious expression was back.
“Please yourself. I’ll wait out front.”
“Fine. Just don’t wait up.”
“I won’t.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.”
And she stormed off.
I was thinking about going after her when I felt a soft hand on my shoulder and nearly jumped.
“Hi, I’m Colt.”
Colt?
“Er, hi. I’m Miles.”
“I know.”
Huh?
“You’re going to be Nuriel, right?”
I nodded, frowning slightly.
“Yeah, so I was wondering, could you get me a part in the movie? Something small, I don’t mind. I’d be very… grateful.”
Colt was hanging onto my shoulder and I had to admit she was fucking gorgeous. Well, all the women at Lilia’s party were hot.
She traced her nail down my arm and stood so close, she was rubbing her tits against my chest.
Guys are supposed to like that, right? Easy, uncomplicated sex. But truthfully, I was a real girl about sleeping with someone – so Clare said. Feelings, all that stuff, although right now my cock was having difficulty reme
mbering it. I had to admit to myself that I was tempted – this woman was off the chart beautiful. But you know what stopped me? It wasn’t any sort of sense of chivalry, or the fact I had no power to get her on the film; it wasn’t even because I didn’t see myself as a manwhore. What stopped me was a sudden image of Gayl Lemon’s face.
Yeah, okay, that sounded weirder that even I’d like to admit. Maybe Gayl was hot in her day, I couldn’t say, but she was old enough to be my grandmother. My dick shriveled at the thought. But Gayl had talked endlessly about the image – how people see actors as role models. If this film went the way they were saying, it wasn’t just me who was going to care who I slept with. I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to wake up one day and see my face plastered over the newspapers with some skank talking about the night we’d spent together. I definitely didn’t want to be like Mr. Joe Blow.
And I didn’t want to be like him – my hole chasing fucking father.
“Sorry, Colt. I don’t have any say about casting.”
“You wanna party?”
God, she wasn’t making it easy for me to say no, especially the way she kept pushing her tits against me.
“No, I’m okay, thanks.”
“Well, call me, if you change your mind.”
“Er…”
She walked away. How was I supposed to call her – she didn’t give me her number? Whatever. I didn’t want to call her.
I headed for the front door.
“Miles? Where are you going?”
Lilia’s voice stopped me in my tracks.
“Oh, hi… I thought I’d head back now. I’ve got some things to do, y’ know.”
“Such as?”
I decided to come clean.
“It’s a great party, Lilia, I’m just feeling a bit freaked. I need to get some head space.”
She smiled.
“I remember that feeling. Sure, fine, but we need to get our shots first.”
Shots? What, injections?
“Of you and me, Miles, enjoying this wonderful party.”
I frowned at her and she sighed.
“Look, the studio paid for this party. It’s publicity, right? They want some pictures of us together.” She saw the look on my face. “Think of it as work, that’s all.”
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