Steal (Seaside Pictures)

by Rachel Van Dyken

  I’d been off since that fateful day.

  But I didn’t tell people that.

  It was my secret to keep.

  And his.

  “How did I get so lucky?” Will’s lips grazed my ear as we walked toward the waiting limo. “To get you?”

  I rolled my eyes as unease washed over me. “Stop, you know I’m the lucky one.” My heart was in my throat as I pasted on a smile and made eye contact with his bandmate, the one who’d given me the drugs still in the bottom of my purse, the drugs he promised would make me feel better after a drunken confession that I was depressed. Palms sweaty, I nodded to him.

  His smirk made me feel dirty.

  Like he was looking at me naked.

  And I’d had my fair share of dirty.

  I was underage Hollywood through and through.

  But I’d never crossed that line into drugs territory.

  I licked my lips and forced a heart-stopping smile up at Will. “You’re the best you know that?” I could see Andrew frowning out of the corner of my eye, his body language tense. He’d told me it was only a matter of time before I got tired of Will and chose him.

  And I was out to prove him wrong.

  Besides, it was just one hit, right?

  One hit.

  What would go wrong?

  “All done!” Gem helped me to my feet and grinned. “I think you look beautiful.”

  I hadn’t felt beautiful in a long time, and for some reason that compliment, the very real one from my aging makeup artist had me seconds from bursting into tears, so I did what I always did. I deflected, acted out, projected. “I get that a lot.”

  She didn’t frown.

  Instead, she stepped closer to me, put a hand underneath my chin, and tilted it up. “I just bet you do, sweetie.”

  Not sure how to take it, I stumbled backward, barely remembering to grab my call sheet for the day, all while Gem smiled sweetly and waved like she was sending me off to school.

  More like Hollywood Hell.

  Jaymeson was spraying my brother with some sort of water hose, Lincoln yelped while Jaymeson told him not to be a bitch. Jaymeson’s wife, playing the role of the heroine, Pris laughed at the spectacle.

  We were shooting a story based on the guys’ time in Seaside.

  The first movie had been a blockbuster.

  The second two were slated to make over seven hundred million domestic.

  And lucky me. Will got me the part of the nemesis.

  The enemy.

  The most hated girl in America.

  Me.

  Angelica Greene.

  Twenty-six years old and already being shoved toward retirement. Until this had popped up. How great after all, would it be, to play yourself?

  Except I knew my place.

  I’d been the villain.

  Was always the villain.

  Sure, I’d helped Jay get the girl over a year ago, but that one good deed wasn’t enough to pay for my sins. And it was a nightmare knowing that everyone believed the exact same thing.

  “YOU LOOK MORE pissed off than usual.” Lincoln sprayed water across the ground giving it a wet effect and then tossed the hose.

  I rubbed under my eyes and glanced away from it all.

  Away from the cameras.

  The crew.

  The extras.

  I inhaled the fresh ocean spray, thinking hey, this is where people relax it’s supposed to be vacation — God when was the last time I even had one of those? Breathe. In. Out. Easy. We only had three months of shooting. I could do anything with three months.

  “I’m ready.” Angelica’s voice may as well be a warning alarm going off in my head. Bright red lights flashed in front of my line of vision and every single muscle in my body went taut.

  I hated the effect she still had on me.

  She’d gained weight back — no longer looking like a fresh cocaine addict — and her skin was bronzed just enough to give her the summer glow needed for the film. Add that to her captivating catlike eyes and her plump lips, and my body was already responding even when I hated myself for it.

  At least I hated her more.

  I would always hate her more.

  “Great.” Jaymeson rubbed his hands together, “Have you looked over your call sheet?”

  “Yeah.” She lifted it in the air.

  I started texting on my phone, purposefully letting her know that I didn’t give a shit if she already had every line memorized and won a freaking academy award.

  I didn’t care.

  I never would again.

  I checked emails.

  Or maybe I just checked out mentally. I had to when I was around her, thinking never did me any good — thinking was what got me into this mess. Because in life, thinking leads to thoughts, and naturally those thoughts led to dreams, possibilities. And then, when those come crashing down, what do you have left?

  Sadness and jack shit. That’s what you have left.

  What possessed me to think I could do this?

  Oh that’s right… my own damn pride at knowing that I won. That at the end of the day, she needed me — and I had the power to destroy her just like she had destroyed me.

  Us.

  INCOGNITO.

  My mantra.

  My goal.

  My hell.

  I should be on set instead of hiding out at an abandoned coffee shop down the street.

  I should be making sure my actress wasn’t setting the director on fire, just like I should be making sure that she was doing her job, the job she was getting paid for.

  Two years ago she’d been fired from three different films.

  Two years ago she was still doing drugs.

  Two years ago I was still in love with her.

  Two years ago she broke my heart for a second time without even realizing it and providence brought her to my agency, my doorstep.

  I was the freaking Luke Skywalker of her world.

  I’d dreamed of that moment. The moment she’d come crawling back and I’d sneer in her face, tell her to drop dead, then laugh while the door hit her in the ass on the way out of my office.

  But that was the thing about revenge. Nobody ever warns you about all the other feelings that attach themselves to that one word.

  Like regret.

  Like what ifs.

  Or the soul-sucking sadness that still hadn’t let go and I wasn’t the type of guy to get sad and mope. No, sadness almost always turned to anger.

  So, I wasn’t sad about Angelica.

  I was pissed.

  I was still pissed.

  I checked my watch.

  She’d been on set for an hour, I’d gotten shit done, and I was drinking cold coffee.

  Yeah, nobody ever warned me how lonely revenge was.

  Or how bitter it tasted.

  I took another sip of the cold brew. As its acidic tang invaded my mouth, I closed my eyes and savored the bitterness.

  “Hey,” A chipper female voice called to my right. “Aren’t you Will Sutherland? From that Adrenaline boy band?”

  And there it was.

  Shocked it only took an hour for someone to actually notice me. Typically, I was mauled right away. Then again, that’s what Seaside did to a person. It made them believe that just for one second they were normal.

  I partially blamed the descending of rock duo AD2 along with Jaymeson and the rest of young Hollywood sniffing around the area — Zane Andrews, my favorite client included.

  So many movies were slated to film here it was laughable.

  Maybe the locals were getting used to it.

  Just like I was getting used to not having to look behind my back or see myself trending on twitter because I’d gone and done the impossible.

  I, Will Sutherland, had aged.

  Hell.

  I ran my hand over my face and took off my black-rimmed glasses then tossed them onto the table. “Yeah, I am.”

  She was probably around twenty-eight, which meant
when we were famous, the One Direction of our time, she would have been graduating high school with stars in her eyes and posters of my ass all over her bedroom.

  Fantastic.

  “I thought so.” She pulled out her phone and wagged it in my face. “You were my biggest crush for so long, I even dated a guy who looked like you.”

  I’d heard creepier.

  “Wow, awesome.”

  Fact: I’d become a musician to chase a dream.

  Fact: I’d tried acting once and sucked so bad that they were tempted to cut almost my entire part.

  Fact: Acting reminded me of Angelica, so I refused to put a freaking mask over my face and draw a smile on it just because fans used to think of me when they touched themselves.

  I winced.

  When the hell had I turned into such a jackass?

  “Yeah, of course.” I cleared my throat and grabbed the phone, then stood.

  The woman sucked in a breath, her eyes dilating as she eyed me up and down, her throat moved slowly like she was just now realizing that rather than growing up and letting myself go by way of drinking and drugs — I’d done the exact opposite.

  Weights. Protein shakes. Bland food. No salts. No alcohol.

  So basically no fun.

  I was no fun.

  God, how many times had I gone out with a woman only to hear that same damn thing?

  Boring.

  No fun.

  Boring. Boring. Boring.

  The woman bit down on her bottom lip then took a step next to me while I pointed the phone at us and gave the best smile I could conjure up.

  The picture snapped.

  She hadn’t even been looking at the screen but at my face.

  I knew what she saw. Wavy golden hair, deep brown eyes, a strong jawline, and enough muscle to be able to lift her against the wall with one hand, while stripping her naked with the other — and all without breaking a sweat. That was what they all saw, what they all wanted. The outer wrapping, the pretty package, and who gave a damn that whatever was inside me might be dark? Broken? As long as the package looked good…

  My jaw flexed. “Here you go.”

  She took the phone. “My name’s—”

  I laughed, rudely interrupting her as I shrugged and reached for my discarded coffee, “Sorry, no names.”

  “No names?”

  “Names cause a certain familiarity I’m not comfortable with. Next time lead with where you want me to screw you, and for how long… If you lead with a name then that means you want me to remember it, which I won’t.”

  Her eyes widened.

  “I’m late.” I winked. “But it was nice meeting a fan.”

  “I can’t decide if you’re an ass on purpose or just really blunt,” she called after me. “But my name’s Cassidy if you change your mind.”

  Ah so hopeful even when I turned on jackass mode.

  I smirked. “Cassidy with two S’s?”

  She gave me a hopeful look.

  I walked away.

  Always hopeful.

  Until they discovered that the guy they fell in love with on stage was long gone; so far gone, he might as well be dead.

  Destroyed the day his heart was wrecked.

  A shell.

  I was a shell.

  At least I had a purpose.

  And it had everything to do with the girl currently walking toward me with her hands on her hips and fire in her eyes.

  “Where have you been?” Angelica seethed. “I called you three times! I don’t have a car here, and the hotel that the cast is staying at says it doesn’t have a reservation for my room!”

  I walked by her.

  She bit out a curse and fell into step beside me.

  “That’s because they don’t.” I shoved my glasses back on my face and took in a deep breath. The salty air gave me a much-needed reprieve from my dark thoughts.

  “Don’t what?” Her voice dropped. “Look, I know you still hate me, I get it—” Bullshit, she got nothing. “—but I need a place to sleep that isn’t the windy beach. It’s freezing here at night.”

  A kid walked by with his kite; he waved at us and skipped ahead onto the sand, kicking it up into the air with wild abandon as his parents chased after him.

  A sick feeling punched me in the gut.

  Making it hard to breath.

  Angelica froze next to me.

  I gave my head a shake. “They don’t have a reservation because I didn’t make you one. I can’t keep an eye on you at the hotel, especially with at least two cast mates who have a drug past. You aren’t staying there.”

  She brought her thumb to her mouth and started chewing on her perfectly polished nails.

  My eyes narrowed. “You’re chewing your nails.”

  She immediately stopped, while a blush crept up her neck. “Well you’re making me nervous.”

  “You don’t get nervous.”

  “It’s new.” She gulped and looked down. “You know, along with sobriety.”

  It was on the tip of my tongue to lash out again, to hurt her.

  But I was too tired to spar and too afraid she’d pack too many punches with her own words, punches I couldn’t receive without taking a hard hit in the chest.

  “Let’s go.” I grabbed her elbow and led her to my waiting Mercedes.

  She crawled in without argument.

  And started chewing on her nail again.

  “Not the least bit curious?” I asked with a smirk firmly in place so she wouldn’t get the wrong idea. I wasn’t flirting. I was baiting. Big difference.

  She huffed out an exhale. “I’m too smart for those games, Will. If I stripped naked and begged on my hands and knees for information you’re more likely to steal my clothes and make me walk the streets naked while you follow yelling ‘Shame’ behind me as I make my way through town.”

  “Been watching a lot of Game of Thrones, have you?” I barely suppressed my chuckle.

  “It’s me.” She said in a calm voice.

  “The mother of dragons?”

  “Cersei.” She dropped her hand into her lap and looked out the window. “Let’s just say I identify with her as a character, especially the book character.”

  I almost slammed on the breaks. “You’ve been… reading?”

  “Yeah, well, when nobody gives me any scripts, what do you expect me to do to fill my time? Become a mermaid?”

  “Or get a job,” I suggested. “You know reasonable employment, mopping floors, asking people if they want to super-size something — extra ketchup—”

  “I get it.” She held up her hands. “Fine, where are we going?”

  “Say please.”

  “Please, Will.” Her voice softened, it was like a punch to the gut.

  I refused to look at her.

  I already knew what I’d see.

  She was a talented actress, one of the best. Her lips would part on a breath, her skin would look so damn kissable my hand would flinch, and then her eyes would draw me in until she had me in her web — bloody, beaten, half-dead.

  Angelica Greene was a black widow.

  And I refused to be her prey again.

  “Me.” I said as I pulled down the long driveway where my clients all owned houses. Seven beach house mansions lined the cliff.

  I was renting the one in the middle.

  Smack dab between three of Hollywood’s hottest musicians, their wives or significant others, and Jaymeson.

  She’d look out the window and see beach houses.

  I looked out the window and saw emotional support for both of us.

  But mainly.

  Her.

  Because the past had finally come knocking.

  And it was time to stop running.

  For both of us.

  “Me?” She repeated, “What does that even mean?”

  “You’re going to be living with me during filming. Just think, I won’t have to put a bracelet around your ankle that way.”

  YOU KNOW THE dr
eam people have when they’re kids? You’re naked in front of all of your classmates. They point and laugh while you try to cover up whatever parts you can with two hands all the while wondering why your feet are frozen in place. I mean, why don’t you ever run in those dreams? Why do you just stand there? Logic would say to run, right?

  Instead, you stand, paralyzed with fear.

  And the worst part?

  It feels so real.

  Like it’s really happening.

  Like something you won’t ever recover from.

  I was experiencing one of those moments, only I wasn’t dreaming — trust me I even pinched my arm to make sure.

  Because standing in front of Will’s beach house wasn’t just my brother, actor Lincoln Greene with his girlfriend, Dani — because that would be normal right? He was in town shooting, he was blood, end of story.

  I could live with that story.

  But no.

  It was my nemeses.

  My past coming back to my present.

  In the form of every single Hollywood heartthrob I’d either kissed or been semi friends with staring back at me. Seaside was the new it town, and they were the ones who’d made it that way.

  Rock god Zane Andrews smirked at me and gave a little wave before shoving a marshmallow in his mouth and wrapping an arm around his girlfriend, Fallon. I thought he was still on tour.

  I’d thought wrong.

  My eyes fell to the couple next to them.

  Demetri and Alyssa.

  His smile was strained, just like it always was whenever I was in his presence. Years ago, we’d had a thing, or maybe it had just been a thing on my end. I’d been so desperate for any sort of attention that when it was encouraged by my publicist at the time to be seen with either Demetri Daniels or Alec Daniels — I decided on both.

  It was a bad choice.

  Followed by a series of bad choices that ended up landing me in the hospital and losing everything I’d worked my ass off to build.

  My chest felt like someone had pressed down on it, like my heart was failing and the only way to save me was compression after compression until my sternum cracked.

  Alec Daniels stared right through me like I was the devil.

  Satan.

  Darkness itself.

  I flinched when he put a protective arm around Natalie, his wife, and the baby girl she was holding.