Los Angeles (International Guy Book 12)

by Audrey Carlan

  Jesus, is it hot in here?

  He stands, makes a hand gesture again at the chair, and points to the side of the stage. One of the male contestants proceeds to mimic Parker’s movements exactly.

  “Here you go.” Louise presses a button, and the sounds from down below are audible in our control booth.

  “Excellent, Josh, just like that, man.” Parker claps his hands, and the blond guy in the chair smiles brilliantly.

  “Next up? Lamar Williams.” Royce points to a large black man wearing a pair of jeans and a red polo. His chest is broad with shoulders to match. Standing next to Roy, who’s a very large man, the guy looks like he could be a solid contender on a football field. “Show us your swagger, bro.”

  The guy takes long strides over to the side of the stage, lifting his chin as if he’s flirting with the camera right out of the gate. He moves like a panther, all sleek, dark-skinned yumminess in a big, muscular body. He gets to his chair next to Josh and takes a seat. Only he spreads his legs out wide.

  Royce shakes his head. “Naw, man, what you can’t forget is you’re on stage. That camera”—he points to the one about a dozen steps in front of them—“is capturing your entire body. The viewers want to see how good you look from the top of your cropped ’fro to the tips of your Pumas. Ya feel me?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  I snort as that hits Royce’s ears, and he drops his head and runs a hand over his shiny bald head. “Just don’t get too comfortable. Millions of people will be watching you. They do not want to get a shot of your crotch.”

  The younger man frowns, brings both of his feet to the footrest on his tall chair, and clasps his hands between his thighs where his legs are now opened an appropriate amount. “This work?”

  Royce nods. “Yeah, man. Cool.”

  “Next up. Jimmy Jones.” Parker scans the papers he’s holding. “Jimmy Jones? Is that your real name?” he asks as a ginger-haired guy with a full red beard moves to the side of the stage. He’s rocking a circular-brimmed hat similar to a folk-style fedora and paired with a plaid shirt, gray slacks, and a navy blazer. I’m not even sure what you’d call that look. Celtic-gnome chic, perhaps?

  “Yeah. Born and raised.”

  Parker tips his head. “It’s a roll of the tongue for sure. Not exactly going to sound too great on TV. You in the business?”

  “Sure am!” He preens under Parker’s attention.

  “Suggestion. And you know this comes from someone who works with a lot of wealthy and famous people, including the fact that I’m living with a celebrity myself . . .”

  My heart stops when I hear him mention me in a conversation my man doesn’t know I’m eavesdropping on. I hold my breath to hear.

  The guy swallows slowly and nods. “Anything, man. Any help would be awesome.”

  “Change your name. One or the other. Jimmy Jones sounds like a sausage, not a ginger-haired, good-looking guy in his twenties with his own unique style. Yeah?”

  The guy licks his lips and nods.

  “And that’s no disrespect to you or your parents. It’s just in my experience, even the best of them have pseudonyms working in this business. It helps make their name flow in the papers and fit the role they want to play in the industry. If you want to do commercials for egg-and-sausage biscuits, Jimmy Jones might be the way to go. If you want more serious roles, I’d dig a little deeper before we go live with the pilot.”

  Jimmy nods his head several times. “Cool, yeah. Thanks for the tip, man.”

  “All right, then. Show me what you got.” He points to the last chair in the lineup.

  I touch my fingers to the glass and watch my guy do his thing. In this particular instance, it’s teaching men to be more confident, look the part, and play the game for the TV cameras. He works seamlessly with Royce; where one is better in one area, they switch off taking the lead easily with no break in the flow.

  As I’m watching, one of the cameramen waves a hand to the glass screen; then a guy in the booth hits something, and the glass goes from blacked out and tinted to see-through.

  “Shit!” I look around, trying to find someplace to hide.

  I swear it happens in slow motion while I watch Parker and Royce turn around. Royce lifts his head to the booth, his ebony gaze zeroing in on mine. It takes only a moment for him to notice me.

  “Baby girl . . . ,” I hear come through the speaker in a very familiar, rumbly deep voice.

  No, no, no, no, no!

  Parker looks to Royce, his brow furrowed, and then he starts to lift his head up. At the same time, one of the booth guys stands up, towering in front of me, his back to the window, blocking me out completely.

  “What’s going on?” Louise says as though I’m not hiding behind a wall of man.

  The guy in front of me is rotund. He’s at least six feet and then some, with a large Santa-like belly protruding out, nestled against my form. He has both of his big hands on my biceps, but he’s not digging in or touching me inappropriately. More like he’s simply keeping me still, hidden behind his girth.

  “Got you, girl,” he whispers through his lips, which are encircled with a mustache and craggy beard. I look up into his kind green eyes and smile wide.

  “Thanks!” I whisper back.

  “Camera two is flickering. Need maintenance on this one. We might need to switch it out before we go live in a couple of days,” one of the guys below says up to the booth, but I can’t see him behind the wall of man guarding me.

  I breathe as slowly as I can, trying to make my heart calm down from the little freak-out I had going regarding being caught. Still, I know Royce saw me.

  “How about you guys take a thirty-minute break, everyone get a snack, and we’ll get back to it after we diagnose the problem,” Louise says, and presses the button blacking out the glass behind my human wall.

  “That was close.” Ellie lets out a labored breath and leans against the table.

  “Pretty sure Royce got a good look at me. He’s going to tell Parker I was here.”

  Ellie shrugs. “Then we’ll tell him he saw Tara, your look-alike. Problem solved.”

  “Oh yeah! Perfect. Have they met her yet?”

  She shakes her head. “Nope.”

  Louise cuts in. “The female contestants come later today. We have several so that we can see which two will work best for the first few episodes. Can’t wait to watch that go down, now that I see just how much Tara and you look alike. This is going to be epic TV. Totally epic!”

  I let out my breath and rub my hand over my heart. “I hope so. I have a lot riding on how all of this plays out.”

  “Very true. How about we go to my office and talk about the specifics of what you’ve concocted, and I’ll see how much of it we can make happen, if not all of it. Sound good?”

  “Great!” I smile wide and follow Louise and Ellie out the door.

  Just outside of the box is my dream team, Rach and Nate. They pull up the rear, following us down the corridors, up a flight of stairs, and into a pretty room filled with flowers and TV posters. I scan each one and note how old some of these must be.

  There’s a Remington Steele poster. A Moonlighting poster. Love Connection. Though my personal favorite is the X-Files image of Mulder and Scully. As a kid, I watched a lot of that redheaded Gillian Anderson running down streets in heels and beating down bad guys. It was a show my mother and I loved watching together, even if some of the episodes were pretty scary. That show and the time I spent watching with my mom are part of what made me fall in love with acting.

  As Louise offers the chairs in front of her desk to us, my cell phone rings.

  “Shit. It’s Parker!” My heart instantly starts pounding wildly as if I’ve already been caught.

  Ellie pats my shoulder. “It’s all good. Just breathe and take the call. Pretend like nothing is amiss, or your plan is going down the toilet fast.”

  I take a deep breath and let it out before hitting the green button and pressing my cel
l to my ear.

  “Hey, honey.”

  “Hiya, Peaches.”

  “What are you up to? It’s pretty early there, right?” I do my best to leave any jitters behind, focusing on steadying my voice.

  “Late afternoon. We’re taking a break. Cameraman is having some type of functionality problem with his camera.” His voice is smooth and reminds me of how much I miss him, even though it’s only been a few short days.

  I nod. “Ah. That does happen. They’ll get it up and running, I’m sure.”

  “Yeah. How about you? What are you up to?”

  The lie ripples up my throat and out my mouth, tasting foul. “Oh, you know, a little of this, a little of that. Have you met all the contestants yet?” I change the subject back to him.

  “Nope. The females are supposed to show up anytime. Roy and I have been working the fellas, and although it’s a rough bunch, I think they’ll make for good TV.”

  “Mm-hmm. That sounds good.” I pace the office and try to keep up my ruse.

  “You’ll never believe this . . .” His tone changes to one that sounds painted in humor.

  Fuck.

  “Uh, what’s that, honey?”

  “A little bit ago, we were working, and Royce swears he saw you in the production booth. Crazy, right?” He chuckles. “I told the brother he needs to get his eyes checked, because my girl’s pretty face was three thousand miles away pining for her man.”

  “I’m not pining!” I snort-laugh.

  His corresponding laughter fills me with happiness. We’ve had such a hard road, every time we can laugh is a moment to be cherished.

  “Just wanted to be sure you were paying attention. Though I swear, baby, even the mention of your name got me hopeful to see you.” His voice dips low when he adds, “I miss you.”

  Now I’m grinning like a lunatic. I finger a lock of my hair and twirl it around and around, butterflies once again filling my belly with excitement. “I miss you too. When are you coming home?” I pose a standard question I would normally ask if he were really away and I didn’t know all the details.

  “Probably in a few days. We do the pilot filming in two or three days, depending on how the female contestants do.”

  “Makes sense to me. I hope you’re having fun even if it’s without me.” I pout, imagining him all alone in his hotel room at night, no one to keep him company. These images lead me right to the thought of me crawling beneath the sheets, lips pressing to warm flesh until I reach his hard, long cock. I close my eyes and imagine my lips pressing a simple, adoring kiss to the bulbous tip before licking in a swirling motion that always makes him groan and thrust his hips, seeking my mouth and a deeper connection.

  “I wouldn’t say I’m having the time of my life, but I am enjoying this. It’s nice to know that, when the job is done, I’ll be coming home to you and our dogs and our life back in Boston, with no crazy stalker or whacked-out lunatic trying to harm either of us. Baby, I just like the idea of being normal with you. Plain, old, boring, day-to-day family life.”

  “I like the idea of being boring with you too, honey.”

  I glance at Ellie and Louise and find them both blatantly staring and listening to every word of my conversation, not that I’m being inconspicuous or speaking at a lower volume. It’s hard when I get Parker’s voice in my ear, and I haven’t seen him for a few days. It’s like being served a hot-fudge sundae. You don’t think of or worry about the calories; you just indulge with fervor. That’s how I feel when I’m talking to my man. Indulgent.

  “Um, Parker, I need to go. Elliott is trying to get ahold of me on the other line. She has an opportunity she needs to discuss with me. We’ll talk tomorrow?”

  “Yeah, baby. Sleep well tonight.”

  “I will. Love you.”

  “Love you more.”

  I press the “End” button and slip the phone into my back pocket. “He loves me.” I shrug.

  Ellie’s gaze is on me, eyebrow cocked, and a saucy smirk is on her lips. “That, Skyler, is obvious.”

  “I hate lying to him.” I frown, the dishonesty clutching at my conscience. “Takes some of the goodness out of what we’re planning.”

  Louise nods and leans against the arm of her chair. “Think of it this way: the end result will be worth the means.”

  I straighten my spine and firm my shoulders. “It better be.”

  Elliott tilts her head to the side. “It will. Have a little faith.” Her tone is soft and compassionate.

  “When it comes to Parker, I have all the faith in the world.”

  6

  PARKER

  A warm, paw-like hand grips my shoulder. “You good, brother?” Royce asks, his tone low and private.

  I nod. “Yeah, yeah. I didn’t think it would be this hard being away from her, you know?”

  Royce sucks in his bottom lip and holds it in his mouth, a thoughtful expression on his face. “It’s been a long time since I felt that way about a woman, but I get you. Can’t say that I don’t envy what you’ve got. I know what’s happening in my own situation right now, and it’s rocky as fuck, but I’m hoping to get through to the other side unscathed. Definitely don’t want to have to go through what you and Sky did to find your happy.” He licks his lips, squeezes my shoulder again, and dips his head. “Though I will say, what you got is special. The fact that you survived all the odds and came out on top means it’s meant to be. You can’t live life afraid every time you gotta take a trip for work. Have faith that no merciful God is gonna put you through any more of that shit. Believe it, bro. Sky’s and your time is now. Dig deep, and it will be all right.”

  I close my eyes and let his words sink in. It’s normal to travel, normal to be apart, for any couple. We have to get back to living our lives day to day in the knowledge that the worst is behind us.

  With my brother at my side, supporting me in my every move, I inhale full and deep before clasping both of his shoulders. “Thanks for the pep talk.”

  Royce gives me an all-white, giant grin. “Anytime. I got your back. Always.”

  “Same.” I grip him on the bicep and look beyond us as a line of females walk in from the back of the room. Six in total. I shake my head and squint, zeroing in on one in particular.

  Golden hair.

  Dark eyes.

  Tall.

  Smokin’ hot body.

  “What the fuck?” I narrow my gaze and squint to get a better look.

  Royce turns around. “Shee-it. Is that . . . ?”

  I don’t hear the rest of what he has to say because I’m storming over to the line of women approaching the stage. “Hold up, ladies,” I say, one step down from yelling.

  The six of them stop where they are.

  I move right over to the last woman in the line. When I get closer, my eyes adjust to the light, and I realize it’s not her. But holy fuck, she looks like my woman. “Who are you?”

  The blonde blinks dumbly, raises her hand to her chest, and looks from side to side before she settles her gaze back on me. “Um, me?”

  “Yeah, you.” I can feel my entire body tighten.

  “I, uh, I’m Tara Darling. Contestant for the show.”

  I frown and take her in from her hair to her ballet flats. She’s taller than my Sky, but if I didn’t look close-up, she’d be a dead ringer for her. Eyes a little wider apart, chin pointier, but the entire package together is uncanny.

  “Who brought you here?” I ask, while Royce walks up and stands beside me, crossing his arms over his massive chest and staring down the blonde.

  “Uh, Louise Gonzalez picked me out of a casting call. Is there a problem?” She grabs a lock of her hair and twirls it around her finger in a move that’s so much like Skyler I have to grind my teeth not to rip her head off.

  “You look a lot like Skyler Paige,” Royce rumbles, laying the issue flat out.

  She pouts and tilts her head. “Yes, I’ve heard that before. Is it a problem?”

  “Did someone put y
ou up to this?” My heart constricts as I think that maybe the shit storm hasn’t passed. Maybe this is another person trying to fuck with me and my girl. Get my mind off the real Skyler while focusing on her carbon copy. My skin starts to tingle and itch as the need to call Sky becomes almost unbearable.

  “N-no. I’m not sure what’s going on or why I’m being singled out. I came to the casting call, got a call back, and here I am.”

  “Why did you choose to come to this show?” I ask, my temperature rising with every second I’m in this woman’s presence.

  “Because I need more airtime on the screen, it’s a paying gig, and I get a free attempt at a love connection. Wouldn’t any woman want that?” She blinks prettily, and I want to point my finger at the door and kick her out. Unfortunately that’s not what we’re here to do. Royce and I have to get these women ready to woo the audience and the men they can’t see sitting behind a wall in order to get the show off the ground and high on the rating board.

  Royce places his hand on my elbow and urges me to walk with him about ten feet away. He leans close. “I know you’re thinking this is some type of setup, but even if it is, I don’t think it’s for nefarious purposes.”

  Just as I’m about to speak, Louise, the production director, enters from the back of the room where the ladies came from.

  “Do we have a problem here, gentlemen?” She walks up, her dark ponytail swinging as she goes.

  “Louise, my friend and I are taken aback by one of your candidates as a contestant on the show.” Royce points to the women.

  Louise’s dark gaze lasers in on me, then Royce, before scanning the contestants. “Am I to assume this has to do with Tara?”

  Interesting how she knew exactly who we were referring to.

  Can you say . . . setup?

  “Yeah.” I cross my arms over my chest in a defensive move. Her dark gaze glances at my arms, and her lips twitch.