by Maggie Marr
“Not officially, but we spoke briefly before you arrived. Seems she wasn’t so sure I was telling the truth when I said we knew a lot of the same people.” A slick smile slid over his face and he took a long pull from his beer bottle. This Dog-Man was hot, sexy, and somehow a tiny bit irritating. Maybe because once upon a time he’d been more famous than anyone in the room; he’d been as famous as Daddy was today. He’d had everything and left it all to take care of … dogs? That didn’t make sense to me.
“Mr. Legend?” Mr. Gazillionaire was up and out of his chair and was now standing beside my dad. “Joe Warren,” he said as he held out his hand. “We met in Tahiti. I was wondering if we could discuss that film you had in mind.”
Daddy cocked an eyebrow and shook his head. “Joe, good to see you again. It’ll have to wait until after the concert.”
Joe nodded and turned his head away from Daddy as though he’d been scolded. He went back to his seat. Daddy had that effect on people. When Daddy smiled it was magic, but Daddy’s cold shoulder was like an arctic blast. Poor Mr. Gazillionaire. If he’d been sweeter to me I might have helped him a little just now, but since he’d been a douche he’d get no help from me. Knowing he was suffering, a hint of pleasure burst in my chest.
I glanced at Trick. That damned cocked eyebrow. He’d witnessed my exchange with Joe Warren. I had not been my best self. And Trick knew. Damn. He also knew I was enjoying watching Joe Warren squirm. An uncomfortable feeling uncurled in my belly.
So. What. Let Trick judge. He’d walked away from everything any person could ever want. Fame. Success. Money. He was a damn EGOT and now he worked with … dogs? What kind of stupidity had led him to make that kind of decision?
Trick
“Man, how long has it been since you’ve seen a sea of glorious pussy like this?” Webber waved his hands out in front of him. “I mean Idyllwild? Who the fuck lives in Idyllwild? What you got out there? Middle-aged hausfraus?”
My gaze traveled over the crowd that had gathered at Webber’s pad after the Left Coast Gala. Young and Hot. The Hollywood gold standard. “There is nothing, nothing like Los Angeles pussy.” Webber settled back onto his heels and a giant grin spread over his face. “Am I right?” He jabbed me with his elbow. “Am I right?”
I tilted my beer bottle to my lips. Webber—man, he never changed. Most of his contemporaries had settled down, but he just kept pretending he was still twenty-two, always on the lookout for new, nubile young women. His pad was amazing. High in the hills with a view, a pool, and a magnificent parcel of land. It reminded me of my old place that I sold after the accident, before I left Los Angeles for the hills and the land of “middle-aged hausfraus” as Webber called them. Two women walked toward us, one a brunette with long dark hair and the other a blond. Both spectacular looking and each wearing what could barely pass for a dress.
“This is Layla and this is Pammy.” Webber placed an arm on each girl’s shoulders. Damn, Webber’s assessment was correct. How could I have forgotten? Los Angeles did have the most beautiful women on the planet.
“Do you ladies have any idea who this guy is?” Without lifting his arm from Layla’s shoulder he pointed at me. I’d been the subject of this game more times than I could count and the game used to end the same way—at least where girls of a certain age were concerned—me in bed with both Layla and Pammy while they let their pre-pubescent and adolescent fantasies play out. Ah, the good old days.
Pammy squinted and tilted her head to the side. She peered at me as though my face were familiar.
“Oh my God, no way! You’re Tommy, from Holiday High,” Layla said.
Guilty as charged.
“I loved you.” Layla smiled and her eyelashes fluttered.
Yes, yes she did. Or she loved the idea of me, or she loved the character I had played, or she loved one or all of the four teeny-bop albums I’d released—each had gone platinum. Or maybe she loved the Broadway musical I’d been in when I was eleven—though I doubted it. From the looks of Layla she hadn’t been in school yet when I was on stage.
“You were all over my bedroom walls.”
“You’re Tommy?” Pammy swooned. Her eyes widened. Pammy obviously was getting through life on her looks because there didn’t seem to be much working between her ears.
“Both of you had teenage fantasies? Right?” Webber turned to Layla and then Pammy. “Right?” He was getting a hard-on just hearing how much Layla and Pammy had loved me when they were barely old enough to know what a sexual fantasy was.
“Loved.” Layla pulled a long strand of her hair between her finger and her thumb. Her eyes widened and her lips pursed, causing her features to slip from abject admiration to lust. This shift was familiar. I’d been the beneficiary of this shift many, many times. Before I left L.A. I’d bagged countless nameless, faceless ladies based on my former teen heartthrob status.
“So,” Layla stepped closer. The fabric of her dress brushed against my arm. “Would you like to hear about my fantasies?”
“I would.” Webber nodded and his eyes flashed from me to Layla. “I’d love to hear about all your fantasies.”
A smile broke across my face and I shook my head. Webber had no shame. None. He’d capitalize on any opportunity. He knew what he wanted and he absolutely would get it any way he could.
“Holiday High was my favorite show!” Pammy said again, as though her brain was on a three-second delay.
“So that’s who you are.” The cool voice behind me was familiar.
“Hey, Sophia.” Webber cocked an eyebrow, but kept his arms around Layla and Pammy.
“Webber, Webber, Webber,” Sophia walked around me and stopped in front of Webber. She looked over Pammy and Layla as if appraising a new piece of furniture. “I see some things never change.”
“What can I say? I’m a man of predictable tastes. I like what I like.” Webber’s gaze bounced past Sophia. “Your dad with you?”
Sophia’s smile remained, but her eyes flashed at the mention of Steve. Of course. If she was anything like Amanda or Sterling, she was desperately trying to become a star in her own right, all the while seeking approval from “the great Steve Legend.”
“He’s on his way over. He had to make a stop first.”
“I know what that stop is all about,” Webber wiggled his eyebrows and looked at me. “Miss April. Yowza!”
Sophia sighed. Pammy and Layla openly looked over Sophia and pressed closer to Webber at the same time.
“You here solo, Sophia?” Webber asked.
“I’m with Rhett and Tasha.”
“Rhett’s here? Awesome-sauce.” Webber hugged Layla and Pammy tighter to him. “You ladies want to meet Rhett Legend?”
“Ooo, yes!” They were practically swooning.
While I had been their fantasy once upon a time, Rhett was most likely their fantasy now. New always won in L.A. The threesome wandered away from me and Sophia and over toward the house, where a group was slowly gathering. Probably to get a good view of Rhett Legend, the world’s newest, biggest rock star.
“Holiday High.” Sophia crossed her arms over her good-looking cleavage. “Wow, that was like a decade ago.”
“Five years, but it might as well have been a decade. Things change fast.” I sucked on my beer bottle and let my eyes roam over Sophia. She was everything a crazy model should be. High cheekbones, lush long black hair, brown eyes that seemed to devour you, plump lips, giant breasts, tiny waist, and a pretty amazing ass.
I wouldn’t mind grabbing that ass.
“What have you been doing since then?”
“Rehab three times and then I started a foundation.”
Her jaw dropped open. Speechless? Was this woman with such a smart mouth actually speechless? Maybe. It was unusual to be that honest in Los Angeles. Here in the land of La-La everyone held everything together, even when they were so strung out they could grind the enamel from their teeth.
“Wow, that’s brutally honest.” Her voice was s
ofter, as though she might have found my truthfulness refreshing.
“What kind of foundation did you start?”
“I rescue animals,” I said.
“Oh, right. You’re the guy who runs Pawtown.”
I nodded. “Me and my sister Angie.”
“Wasn’t she on Holiday High too?”
I nodded. “Yep, she sure was.”
Sophia scrunched her eyebrows together as though she was thinking. And she was. She was pulling up a memory of Angie and in a matter of seconds she would recall what had happened to Angie and how—
“Wait”—her eyes widened—“your sister had some kind of accident, right? She can’t walk, she was in a car wreck and her bro—”
Sophia stopped talking. Her gaze locked with mine.
My heart lurched in my chest. Yeah, I was the brother. I was the one who was driving the car. That guy was me.
“I’ve been in rehab three times.” I still didn’t do well when this topic came up, and I always just spoke the cold hard truth. How the fuck could I ever forgive myself for that night? Angie had forgiven me, or so she said but, fuck, how she could do that I’d never know. She couldn’t walk. And she never would. And, most likely, she’d never have kids. I was the total and complete fuck up who was responsible.
“I … uh …” Sophia’s eyes glanced around the party. She looked everywhere but at me, and it was as though she didn’t know what the hell to say. It happened to a lot of people—especially here in Hollywood. When confronted with something real, something uncomfortable, something other than the fabulous world they inhabited, they were at a loss for words, and Sophia was no different.
“I’ll save you having to ask,” I told her. “I was driving. I was coked out of my mind. I slammed us into a tree and I was fine—I walked away. But Angie can’t walk, and she never will. I went to jail and then I went back to rehab. Angie and I started Pawtown, and now I’m here. That clear everything up for you?”
“I guess so.” Sophia squinted as though she couldn’t imagine why I was being so rude.
I set my beer bottle on the table in front of me. Her gaze landed on my beer.
“Booze? That was never the problem. For me it was the coke and the girls.”
Her eyebrows popped up.
“Lots of girls. Mainly models.”
I slipped my phone from my pocket and requested an Uber. I was done. I’d done what I came to do. Left Coast had trotted out Trick Williams for their anniversary gala and now that I had done my duty I was ready to leave. “Nice to meet you, Sophia.” I turned and walked out of the party. She might be hot, she might be a Legend, but she definitely wasn’t real enough for me.
Chapter 5
Sophia
“Tell me again why I have to go to this fundraiser?”
Ellen, who actually looked halfway put together in a skirt and sweater and cute flats, stared directly at me. She was driving while I sat in the passenger seat and checked my makeup. “Because our sister and our brother asked us to go.”
“My sister is driving the car.” I pulled down the sun visor and flipped open the mirror. “That other bitch is just Daddy’s other daughter.”
“Seriously? Sophia, you’ve got to stop with the name-calling. What has Amanda done to you other than be born first?”
“Ha!” I pressed my lips together and turned my head from side to side. Damn, Ellen and I had gotten the looks. “You’re crazy if you think that’s the only reason I can’t stand half-sister dearest.”
“Whether you can or can’t stand Amanda, she’s still our sister. I love how hard she’s working to try and make us one big family.”
I flipped the mirror closed. “Aren’t you so sweet? The ugly ducking smart twin who’s bonded with the beautiful big sister that the pretty twin hates. Sounds like a Disney movie. Maybe we’ll all hold hands at the end and sing. Maybe Rhett could write the song.”
“Ugly twin?” Her gaze narrowed and she shot me a look. “We’re identical.” Ellen turned the car into a parking lot at the Malibu Pier. “What’s up with you today? You’re like a raving bitch. I haven’t seen you this nasty since Rhett got the cover of Rolling Stone.”
“Whatevs.”
“Seriously, Sophia, you need to snap out of it. This is a big event for Dillon and for Choo, and also for Amanda. They love Pawtown. You better not walk around here like a complete bitch, because that won’t help anyone. There’s going to be tons of press at this event.”
I took a long breath. While Ellen wasn’t nearly as pretty as me, she was definitely smarter—although I would never tell her that. She was right. Being a bitch at this event wouldn’t help my image. I needed to pull myself together and adjust my attitude. Irritation raced through me. Ever since Choo had cautioned me that my public fan base was about to turn, I had thought of nothing else, and it was getting to me. And then that news was followed by the suggestion that I attach myself to a charity? I chewed my bottom lip.
“Does your foul humor have anything to do with your fear of dogs?”
“I am not afraid of dogs.” Exaggerating my flaws was something Ellen loved to do. “Just because I don’t understand the need to keep a wild beast that barks and bites and has fleas in the house doesn’t make me afraid.”
“Uh huh, says the girl who has a scar on the back of her thigh that required three stitches.”
“Well, who wouldn’t be afraid of dogs after that?”
“You still take no responsibility for that bite?”
“I didn’t do anything to deserve it.”
“We’ll have to agree to disagree.” Ellen drove slowly around the lot looking for a spot. “Taunting a retriever with a hot dog was not your brightest move.”
Ellen was so critical of everything I did. Being with her was like opening up my entire existence for review. Every choice I made, every decision, every word was subject to the hypercritical assessment of Miss Brainiac.
I pulled open my purse and scrounged for the tiny pink case at the bottom. My next shoot was in three days and I was in starvation mode. I couldn’t eat anything, not now, not before a cover shoot. I slipped a tiny little pill into my mouth and grabbed the water bottle from the cup holder.
“Please don’t tell me you’re taking another one of those?”
I slugged back a giant gulp. “You’re not a doctor yet.” I flipped open the mirror one final time to check my lipstick.
“You’re popping the Adderall like candy.”
Candy? Did Ellen have any idea how long it’d been since I’d actually eaten candy … eaten anything, for that matter.
She parked the car and I ignored the look she tossed my way. She wasn’t my mother. She had no idea what I went through on any given day. The pressure. The responsibility. The need to keep everything together without losing my shit.
I grabbed my purse. Ellen didn’t even bother to check her makeup in the rear view mirror. No pride. No vanity. Must be nice to just walk out the door without ever worrying about how you looked.
Across the parking lot, on the grass, was a giant step and repeat banner covered with paw prints that read “Pawtown.” The media was set up in front of the banner and just this minute, big sis Amanda stood in front of the photographers with her perfect husband Ryan Sinclair.
Heat flamed through my chest. How had she managed to snag him? I mean I knew the story … Daddy’s bitch ex-wife Kiley had cut Amanda off, and then Ryan wrecked his car and went to rehab. After that, Amanda became Ryan’s sober companion, blah blah blah.
But damn, how had Ryan Sinclair fallen for Amanda? I mean, he could have gotten any woman in the entire world and he’d gone for my half-sister? She did have Daddy’s black hair and good looks, plus some of the Legend charm, but I wasn’t convinced that big sis was all that. She wanted nothing to do with the industry.
Plus, what was her motive for wanting all the Legend kids to become one big happy family? She had to have an angle. I mean, I didn’t need to be pals with Amanda and Sterling. They
were Daddy’s other kids, the legitimate ones that Daddy had always trotted out at events. The kids that us bastards had had nothing to do with growing up. And we were the ones that Amanda and Sterling had known nothing about. At least not until Sterling reconnected with his soon-to-be-wife Rhiannon Bliss. Then the Delgado children were out of the bag.
Ellen smiled at Amanda and Ryan as they stood in front of the photographers. I nearly gagged. “There’s Daddy.” Ellen’s voice grew softer. She and Daddy had a strange sort of relationship. Ellen looked like Daddy, but she was so different from him. She didn’t share Daddy’s need for adulation or constant stimulation. Ellen preferred a book and peace and quiet to a premiere. Maybe that was why Ellen liked Amanda. Amanda seemed to prefer the quiet life, too.
Daddy seemed to understand those two, but he wasn’t always sure how behave around them. But I had noticed he listened to my half-sister Amanda and Ellen more than he listened to me. The things that Amanda and Ellen said seemed to carry more weight with Daddy. Once again I was a pretty face with nothing between my ears.
“Aren’t they adorable,” Ellen said to no one in particular as she tilted her head and smiled at Amanda and Ryan.
I licked my bottom lip. Sandpaper lined my mouth and throat. Adorable? Why would my sister call Amanda and Ryan adorable when I was standing right here beside her? Adorable, gorgeous, amazing, those were adjectives that belonged to me. Adjectives that I needed in order to continue building my career.
Flashes from the photogs’ cameras swept across Amanda and Ryan. Surely they had enough pictures by now. My heart did double time. Every bit of attention and adulation that was focused on them meant I was being ignored.
“Come on.” I grasped Ellen’s arm. “We can’t let Amanda get all the attention.”
Trick
Sophia was a beauty headed for a fall. She worked the step and repeat next to her sister like a pro. They were identical, that was obvious from the shape of their faces and their bone structure, but that was where the similarity ended. Sophia Legend and her twin sister might share the same DNA, but I could tell just by looking at them that they were completely different. The way they dressed, they way they carried themselves, even their facial expressions. The Legend magnetism and charisma exuded from Sophia, forcing everyone within a ten-foot radius to look at her. Yeah, Sophia Legend was on her way up into the celebrity stratosphere. The photogs ate her up like sharks circling a dump of chum. Her photos must be going for high dollars the way the camera flashes burst around her.