Your Fallen Star: Under the Stars Book 1

by Raleigh Ruebins

  . . . Mr. Sheffield . . . Thank you for submitting your pitch to Diamond Studios . . . would like to invite you to come for an appointment with us at your earliest convenience to discuss . . .

  I felt my heart lurch in my chest before I could even properly read the email.

  Holy shit, holy shit, holy fucking shit.

  A studio wanted to talk to me about my screenplay.

  I quickly googled Diamond Studios again to refresh my memory of which studio this even was—I’d submitted to so many—and remembered that this was one of the only ones who was actively asking for submissions, instead of just hesitantly stating they’d accept them. The studio was small and independent but growing, and the website was sparse and didn’t have much information on it, but I couldn’t care at the moment.

  Someone wanted to talk to me about Made Contact. I felt a welling of tears at the corners of my eyes, and I was smiling so hard that my cheeks hurt. I wrote back to them right away telling them that I’d be available any time to meet with them.

  It felt like my life had flipped upside down in the span of 10 minutes.

  If I had a movie, even a small, indie movie, maybe I could actually start on the track to making my own career. So many successful writers and directors started with small movies.

  And if I made something of myself, maybe at some point I would actually be worthy of someone like Leo. Someone who had years and years of life stories and history. Currently, I had none.

  But I was about to make some.

  Seventeen

  Leo

  I was in the kitchen losing a battle against a bag of strawberry gummy candies when I heard a knock at the door loud enough to rise above the blaring music I had on. I paused the stereo and looked at the clock.

  6:30. Shit. We were supposed to leave for Chandler’s party in a half hour.

  I ran to the door, checking through the peephole just to make sure that it wasn’t some stranger, but it wasn’t, thank fuck.

  I swung the door open and let Jamie in.

  “Um… you’re not even dressed?” Jamie asked, walking in and shutting the door behind him.

  “I’m totally dressed, what are you talking about?” I took a look at Jamie and had to stop myself from going totally and completely slackjawed. “Wow,” I said, unable to contain my awe. “You look… fucking good.”

  He was done up like he could have stepped right off the set of that recent Great Gatsby movie. Button-up, tie, vest, blazer. All in gorgeous slate greys and blues.

  And seeing him, even after a week of very little contact with him, just cracked open something in me that apparently wasn’t going to go away. I had to have him. I put my hands against his waist and pulled him in toward me slowly, dipping my face towards his.

  I stopped, hovering above him, trying to gauge his reaction, wondering if I should continue. His gorgeous eyes flicked upward to mine, in this vulnerable and surprised way.

  “You smell like strawberry,” he said, his voice low and soft. “You gonna kiss me or not?”

  I uttered a slight groan and brought him toward me, pressing my lips to his. He came flooding back to me: his scent, his warmth, his tiny moans. I kissed into him deeper and before I knew it I was pushing him against the wall, covering his neck in kisses.

  Fucking uncontrollable.

  He laughed slightly, pushing me back just the tiniest bit. “I love this more than you could imagine, but wow, uh… not what I was expecting.”

  “Why not?”

  He pushed me back a little further so he could look in my eyes. Just the feeling of his hands against my chest was enough, and I pushed into his touch. He frowned slightly.

  “Leo. I can’t be the only one who felt it was a little weird that we… did all that last week and then basically didn’t even talk for the whole week after.”

  I bit my bottom lip. “I know, I know. I just…” I took a deep breath. “There’s what I think I should do, and then there’s… what I want to do, every time I see you.” I planted another tiny kiss against his lower jaw, then finally stepped back.

  “And you come in my house looking like this, and my resolve shatters like cheap glass, Jamie. Wow.”

  He blushed a little, looking down at his suit. “Uh, yeah, Chelsea helped me pick it out. I figured if I’m gonna try to make it in the world, I should probably look the part. And seriously—are you really just fucking wearing that? You said it was a 20s theme!”

  I looked at my own clothes. “I mean, yeah, but I don’t really do the whole ‘theme’ thing,” I said, shrugging. I had just thrown on my nicest dark denim and a white t-shirt. “I’ll throw a blazer on over it, if that makes you happy.”

  “It does make me happy,” he said, smiling and slapping me lightly on the shoulder. “I can’t be the only one there looking like this, for God’s sake.”

  “Oh, trust me, you won’t be,” I said, shaking my head. “Chandler will obviously be in, like, Gucci or Versace or something. And Eric always dresses up.”

  “Holy fucking shit I can’t believe I’m actually going to meet these people. Or at least be in the same room as them.”

  I laughed a little, shaking my head. “Chandler and Eric are just nice people. Adam is too, though he’s a little less talkative. It’s the other people at the party you should worry about.”

  I paused for a moment, hesitating, wondering if I should say what I knew I needed to.

  “And Jamie… about that.”

  “Oh no,” he said, looking at me warily, “I don’t like that look on your face.”

  I tried to half-smile, but it didn’t last long. “At the party… I don’t think we should… y’know.”

  His eyebrows lifted. “What?”

  “I don’t think we should… publicly display affection.”

  His eyes were searing into me and he was silent for a beat. “You embarrassed of me?”

  “What? No, God no, Jamie,” I said, closing the distance between us and grabbing his hands.

  “Then what? It’s Chandler’s party, it’s not like there’s gonna be paparazzi there or something. Not that I think it would matter even if there were.”

  I hardened my gaze. “It would matter. You don’t need your career ruined before it’s even gotten started. And no, there won’t be paparazzi, but there will be… hundreds of people. And they all are basically obsessed with gossip, status, and social media. So, I just think it would be wise to keep the story straight—you’re my biographer, coming along to the party to get insights for the book.”

  Jamie sighed, looking at me plainly. “That is technically true.”

  “Yes.”

  “And you’re not just using that as an excuse?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You know…” he said, “Like, you aren’t just embarrassed to be seen with me, or something?”

  “Oh my God, Jamie, you should be the one who’d be embarrassed to be with me. Trust me. There’s no world in which I wouldn’t be thrilled to show you off,” I said. “I just… I need to protect you from the fucked up media world. Okay? You understand?”

  He sighed, but finally nodded.

  “Okay,” I said, “Good.”

  “So…” he said, his lips twisting into a tiny grin, “I can’t do this?” He lowered his hand and then ran it up my thigh, slow and steady, then stopped at my cock. He palmed me through the denim and I swallowed hard.

  It killed me, but I pushed his hand away.

  “You can do that after,” I said, pressing my own hand against my cock in a failed attempt to stop it from inevitably hardening.

  “We’ll see,” he said, a little devilish smile on his face.

  “You’re impossible. You know that right? And you drive me crazy.” I gave him a small kiss. “I’m gonna get my blazer, and then we’ll go. I told Eric we’d pick him up by 7, then we’ll head to Chandler’s house.”

  Jamie beamed, finally looking excited again instead of heartbreakingly sad.

  “I’m so fuc
king excited for tonight,” he said.

  At least one of us was. I was a goddamn nervous wreck. I wasn’t great at these things normally, but I was doubly worried now—because of Jamie, because I wanted so badly for him to have a good time, yet wanted to shield him from the bullshit that L.A. parties with celebrities can bring.

  Jamie deserved better than that. But I was determined to show him a good time.

  After I threw on my blazer we went out to the car. When I got into the driver’s seat I realized that I had amassed a collection of junk mail, a couple parking tickets, and, inexplicably, a teddy bear, all of which were on the passenger seat of the car. I chucked them all into the backseat and finally, Jamie sat down.

  “So nice of you to make room,” he said with a smile that went all the way to his eyes. I leaned over the center console to kiss him quickly, because I couldn’t not, and because touching him made me less nervous for the Hollywood madhouse that we were headed to.

  Then we were on our way, and twenty minutes later, we were in front of the hotel that Eric was staying at. He bounded out the front door, then got into the back.

  “Leo! So nice of you to provide me with a teddy bear and reading material for the ride.” He shut the door and reached up to the front to shake Jamie’s hand. Eric, of course, was dressed to the nines, and looked fantastic in his suit.

  “Huge pleasure to meet you, I’m Eric,” he said, positively beaming at Jamie.

  Jamie beamed right back. “I know—Uh, I mean, hi, I’m Jamie,” he said, laughing a little and shaking Eric’s hand.

  “Yeah, Leo, he’s cute,” Eric declared, sitting back in the seat.

  I felt heat growing on my face and I darted a glance at Jamie, who was still radiant. I looked back at Eric with a sigh. “I haven’t even put the car in drive yet, and already you’re embarrassing me.”

  Eric gave an exaggerated shrug. “Hey, I call it like I see it. And what I see is that I have no trouble realizing now why Leo talks so highly of you, Jamie.”

  “Oh, do you?” Jamie said, fixing his eyes on me and cocking his head. My blush only deepened.

  “I hope you guys like music, because I am about to turn it up for the rest of this goddamn ride,” I said, but I couldn’t help a small smile from creeping onto my face.

  “He’s always like this,” Eric said, leaning over and looking at Jamie. “He acts like he’s all angry but really he’s a softie on the inside.”

  “Trust me, I’ve noticed,” Jamie said, beaming.

  I finally got the music playing and turned it up loud, drowning out the two co-conspirators in the car with me.

  Jamie’s laugh carried over the music. Eric rolled down the back windows, and I drove west, toward the beach and the setting sun.

  Chandler had been throwing parties for years, but he’d only been in his current house—mansion—for a few years.

  I still hadn’t gotten used to it. As we drove up to the property, sweeping views of the ocean filled the horizon with the last remnants of the sun burning faintly at the water’s edge. I turned down the music and all of us looked out at the views, in awe and in silence.

  As we approached the house the line of cars parked on the street got longer and longer, and I could see the glow of lights from Chandler’s ultra-modern house.

  “Uh, should we have parked back there and just walked? There’s nowhere to park here,” Jamie said, rolling down his window and sticking his head out.

  “There’ll be valet,” Eric said, “Don’t you worry. Chandler doesn’t skimp out.”

  “God, I’m so fucking excited,” Jamie said as we rolled up to the front of the house. “And, like, a little terrified.”

  “My question to you, Jamie, is this,” Eric said, “Am I finally going to meet someone tonight? I mean, hundreds of people will be here, but somehow it always feels like the good ones are taken.”

  “Eric, you’re better off looking for dates at a party where you haven’t already slept with… oh… at least 6 of the men and women in attendance?”

  “You think only 6?” Eric said. “Hopefully I can get that number a little higher…”

  Jamie smiled back at him. “I hope you do find someone special.”

  “Thank you, Jamie. You’re lovely.”

  We got out and I gave the keys to the valet guy, and we started toward the front door. Even in the front yard, there were already tiny twinkly lantern lights strung all over the lawn leading up to the door, and a steady stream of other people were trailing in.

  We entered the front door behind a tiny creature who I think was some sort of pop starlet, and entered into a sea of gold.

  “Holy—fucking—shit,” Jamie said, grabbing my arm just briefly as his eyes widened and he gazed around.

  “Yeah, wow,” Eric said, gawking at the décor. “Chandler outdid himself on this one. The place is fucking gilded.”

  It was an understatement. The front door led to a foyer with tall ceilings and a grand staircase, and there were endless gold-colored balloons covering the room. People were congregating everywhere—the entryway, the kitchen beyond, and certainly the backyard as well. The lantern lights were inside too, casting everything in a warm, radiant glow. There were intricate floral arrangements, feathers, golden beads—Chandlers parties were always lavish, but he clearly had gone all out for this one.

  “Hah, yeah, gilded—makes sense, because like, the 20s were the gilded age, and Fitzgerald totally—“ Jamie started, then paused to bite his bottom lip. “Yeah, I’m gonna stop nerding out now.”

  “Oh God, Jamie, I love you already,” Eric said, squeezing Jamie’s head between his hands. He breathed in deep and turned to face me. “Okay. Wish me luck. And if you see me later tonight with that guy from Idaho again, please stop me.” Eric winked at us and disappeared off into the party.

  I turned to Jamie and for the first of what would probably be many times, had to stop myself from kissing him. But then his eyes got wide and he looked kind of adorably shocked, looking past my shoulder.

  “Oh my god,” Jamie muttered under his breath. “It’s him.”

  Eighteen

  Jamie

  What are you supposed to do if you keel over from hyperventilating, after seeing Chandler Price, 5 minutes after entering Chandler Price’s house?

  Because I was pretty sure that’s what was about to happen to me. Yeah, it was because he was mega famous and I’d seen his face everywhere for the past… 15 plus years, but it was also just his aura, the way he carried himself, the magnetic quality that had made him into a star in the first place. It wasn’t a sexual attraction at all—it was more an odd out-of-body experience, like witnessing someone who was not quite human, but better. A step up. Like the rest of us had been prototypes, and Chandler was the final model. It was hard to believe he had started as a member of 5*Star, because he had transcended his past in so many ways.

  It was fucking weird to be standing right in front of him.

  “Leo, Leo, Leo,” Chandler said in his distinct voice, low and velvety smooth. Leo turned around. Chandler had a glass of champagne in one hand, and the warmest smile on his face. He was decked out in a gorgeous cream suit, with a golden shirt beneath and a tie the color of a sunflower. Every bit the superstar.

  “Chandler, it’s been too long,” Leo said, reaching up and embracing him in a tight hug. He released Leo and fixed his gaze on me.

  I blinked at him a couple twice, trying to remember how to be normal.

  “Chandler, this is Jamie. He’s writing what will soon be my biography,” Leo said, turning to me.

  Chandler smiled at me just as intently as he had at Leo, as if we’d been friends for ages. “Jamie. So pleased to meet you,” he said, and stepped toward me.

  “So nice to meet you, Chandler,” I said, outstretching my hand. But then he bypassed my hand completely, and a moment later, Chandler Price was hugging me. I looked at Leo, who was standing behind Chandler, and I made a sort of shocked face. Leo grinned back at me, apparently
amused by my reaction.

  “Jesus, that champagne smells amazing,” I blurted out, as Chandler let me go.

  “Oh, have you tried it yet? You’ll have to get one. I enjoy it very much myself, but I have to admit—it’s my champagne,” Chandler said, fixing me with his sky-blue eyes.

  “Which kind is that?” I said.

  He smiled, looking down at the glass. “Price Champagne. We just developed it this past year. I’ve been meaning to get into the beverage industry for years, but I haven’t had the time.”

  “Oh,” I said, “I can’t wait to try it.” I realized what an idiot I must have sounded like. I thought he had meant “his” champagne, like his favorite champagne—but this was literally his own brand.

  “We’ve got tables set up all over the house—really, feel free to have as much as you want. If you drove in, I made sure to let the valet service know that anyone who drank gets a ride home, on me.”

  “Leo drove in, so that won’t be a problem,” I said, smiling at Leo.

  Chandler turned to Leo. “How have you been, really, L? I don’t hear from you enough.”

  Leo shrugged. “I know, I know. You know I get into hermit modes. But really I’d feel like a dick if I bothered you with phone calls while you’re out in London doing movie press and stuff. I know you don’t need another thing to think about.”

  “Hey,” Chandler said, putting a hand gently on Leo’s upper arm. “I miss hearing from you. Seriously. Anytime. Hell, half the time I’m galavanting around the world I just want to hear from someone normal anyway. Someone who’s not just trying to kiss my ass or play who’s the best sycophant. It’s always good to hear from you.”

  Leo was actually blushing slightly, and it made my entire body feel warm with affection.

  “Thank you, Chandler. I really do appreciate that. How is Sandra? Is she here tonight?”

  Sandra was Chandler’s wife—equally famous; a world-class underwear model turned philanthropic activist. She’d made a name for herself posing for fashion magazines and had actually turned her fame into something worthwhile, giving her time to volunteering and charities at every opportunity.