The Rock Star (Hollywood Heartthrobs Book 2)

by Tabitha Bree

  The Rock Star

  Tabitha Bree

  About

  This is my big break; my first gig as a First Assistant Director. If I can kill it at this job, I can move on to direct my own films one day. And I’m good at my job, so how hard can it be?

  Cue: Xavier Black. Hollywood bad boy. Rock star-turned-actor. Notorious panty-dropper. And whose job is it to keep him in line while we shoot this film? Mine.

  I hate these entitled brats, just walking into the film industry when the rest of us clawed our way here. And to make him more insufferable, he’s intent on ruffling my feathers with his dark-rimmed blue eyes and mischievous smile… but I won’t let him get under my skin. Or into my pants.

  There’s just one problem.

  He’s insanely hot and whenever I’m around him, I break out in a hot flash.

  But I won’t cave, I’m Delilah Moore. No BS, hardworking, independent woman, Delilah Moore. And a party boy in a black leather jacket won’t distract me.

  I just wonder if there’s more to this guy than what you read in the tabloids…

  The Rock Star is a steamy enemies-to-lovers romantic comedy, with plenty of banter, tension, and a happily ever after worth swooning over. It is Book 2 of the Hollywood Heartthrob series but can be read as a standalone.

  For Casey

  Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Keep Reading

  Also by Tabitha Bree

  About the Author

  Acknowledgments

  1

  Dee

  If you asked me who my idols were, I would say Michelle Obama, Oprah Winfrey, and Katherine Sharpe. Doing a movie with Katherine Sharpe is like having a FastPass at Disneyland. Every first assistant director who’s worked with her has gone on to direct their own films, or climbed up the producing ranks. So when I got the call that Legends of the Sea was greenlit and I would be working under the great director herself, I was stoked. No, I was fucking elated. I knew it would be my moment. My big break. If I can impress Katherine, my career will catapult.

  And I’m absolutely shitting myself.

  Katherine Sharpe has fast tracked the careers of many, true. But the first ADs who didn’t impress her? No one has heard from them again. It’s not like they’re tied up in her basement or anything, but the result is nearly as grim. Some of them slipped down the ladder to the show runners at the base, some quit the film industry altogether because their experience with Katherine gave them PTSD. Whatever the outcome, it’s safe to say this; working under Katherine Sharpe will make or break your career. And I really hope for me, it’s the first option.

  I arrive at the martial arts studio twenty minutes early and wait for everyone else out the front with my black coffee. Katherine believes the best performances are captured in rehearsals, when the actors are working the scenes for the first time. For this reason, we are only doing rehearsals for the fight scenes so they can learn their choreography. Everything else will be shot for the first time in front of the cameras.

  The decision is bold. But so is Katherine.

  She is everything I aspire to be—successful, fearless, worked her way up from the ground. Everyone in Hollywood respects her, which is noteworthy for an industry dominated by men with enormous egos. She is a force to be reckoned with, and I want to be just like her.

  “First one here?”

  Jayden walks towards me, an obscure indie rock band on his t-shirt.

  “I got up at the butt crack of dawn so I could beat traffic.” I stand up. “Do you have a key?”

  He presents a set and jingles it in his hand.

  “Outstanding,” I say, standing behind him as he unlocks the door. We enter the studio and I’m hit with a combination of sweet energy drinks and stale body odor.

  “Wow, this brings back memories of my days doing karate as a kid,” Jayden says, looking around the room.

  “Do your memories stink like shit too?” I scrunch my nose.

  “It’s the foam mats. I think they absorb the feet sweat or something.”

  “That’s nasty.” I dump my bag on a table and make myself busy opening windows.

  Jayden ditches his backpack and helps me. “So, have you spoken to Katherine much?” he asks.

  “Not since our meeting.”

  “She’s kind of intimidating, huh?”

  “In the best way possible.” I grin. Okay, there is a chance I am fangirling over Katherine Sharpe. Who walks through the door two seconds later. Even in jeans and a black tank top, she looks formidable. She’s followed by the fight choreographer, the script writer, and Viktor Bergström, the film’s antagonist and Hollywood heavyweight.

  “Here and ready to go, that’s what I like to see,” Katherine says, giving me and Jayden a nod. “Viktor, this is our first AD, Delilah, and second AD, Jayden. I’m sure Viktor needs no introduction.”

  “None at all,” Jayden says with starry eyes, his arm snapping up for a handshake. “It’s an honor. Big fan.”

  “It’s nice to meet you.” I opt for a toned-down greeting.

  Viktor’s face breaks out in a smile as he shakes our hands and pats our shoulders with the familiarity of an uncle. I’m immediately put at ease. “Great to meet you both. This is going to be fun, right?!” he says, a childlike excitement in his eyes, even though he’s pushing seventy.

  I grin back at him. “A pirates versus sea gods epic. What’s not fun about that?”

  “Speaking of pirates, no sign of Xavier?” Katherine interjects.

  “I confirmed all the details with his assistant, but still nothing.” I check my phone again, in case I’ve missed any calls or messages. Nada.

  “I’ll try calling her,” Jayden says, walking to the side of the room.

  We haven’t even met yet, but I already know with absolute certainty.

  Xavier Black is an asshole.

  He’s a musical bad boy; your typical sex, drugs and rock ’n’ roll icon. He plays hard and parties even harder—that much you can deduct from the tabloids. But word on the street is he’s gotten too much for anyone to handle—his label dropped him, his manager walked out, and then there was the awful way he treated his ex-girlfriend, a budding folk singer named Willow who everyone adores. So he segued into an acting career. And that is exactly why I hate him.

  I’ve worked my ass off to get where I am, spent years climbing the ladder. But some leather-wearing douchebag with too much eyeliner can just walk in and have his big shot? Just because the music industry doesn’t want him anymore, why does Hollywood have to take him?

  But I know the answer to this already.

  Simply having his name attached to the film will draw huge crowds. A smoldering rock star playing a reckless pirate? Even I would line up to watch that shit, even ju
st out of curiosity.

  “His assistant can’t get ahold of him,” Jayden says, shoveling his phone into his back pocket. “But she’s going to keep trying. She confirmed he has all the information for the rehearsal.”

  Katherine rubs her forehead. I can tell she’s already irritated. “Viktor, why don’t you get started with Roy on the choreography while we wait for Xavier.”

  Viktor nods and heads to the mat with the fight choreographer. He’s an Oscar-winning, A-list actor, yet he showed up on time. After my last film, I was done with divas. These young stars who think they are God-like because women salivate over their Instagram photos.

  Even though he’s got a few decades on me, Viktor moves around the blue mats with the agility of a man in his youth. His piercing blue eyes are trained on the choreographer, taking in his instructions and focusing like a pro.

  If only he was our lead.

  I look at the time on my phone—Xavier is officially an hour late. The nerve of him to waste everyone’s time like this. He’s getting the chance to play a huge Hollywood role, and he’s already blowing it. Except there are no consequences for him. I hear a noise and look behind me toward the door, but nothing.

  Ugh. This is going to be a long shoot.

  “I’m so over these entitled brats,” I say to Jayden as he sits beside me. “He’s done nothing to earn his place here, and he thinks he can hold everyone up like this?”

  “I hear that,” Jayden mumbles. “Xavier Black is the kind of dude who would’ve shoved my head in a toilet in high school.”

  “And I highly doubt he was in the drama club either.” I roll my eyes. “Seriously, why does a rock star think he can act? What, he makes a couple of crummy number one hits and suddenly he’s a movie star?”

  “Nine.”

  I jump at the voice behind us, and turn to see him standing there in the flesh.

  Xavier Black.

  “I’ve made nine number one hits. And are we counting Grammys? I have a few of those as well.” He narrows his eyes and grins, walking toward us like he’s just learned the word swagger.

  “I don’t believe we’ve been properly introduced.” He holds out his hand. “Xavier Black.”

  I keep my face even, dropping my eyes to his outstretched fingers, which are covered in chunky silver rings. He’s testing my nerve; seeing if I can hold up after ragging on him behind his back. But I can tell by the smirk on his face that nothing I said hurt his feelings. He probably doesn’t even have feelings.

  “Delilah Moore,” I say, meeting his hand for a firm shake. He wraps his hand around the tips of my fingers and brings my hand to his face, pressing his lips against my skin.

  “Charmed.”

  Ugh.

  I want to yank my hand away, but I can hear Katherine’s footsteps coming toward us. So I keep my composure strong, and my eyes on his. They are vivid blue, bright against his pale skin and the black of his hair, eyebrows and stubble. Jayden presses his lips together and raises his eyebrows, like he’s interrupting a private moment.

  “Xavier, nice of you to show up.” Katherine rounds on us and he drops my hand. Yes. I knew I would love working under a no-bullshit woman like Katherine. She’ll put him in his place.

  “Sorry I’m late,” he says. “I had some personal matters to attend to.” He looks at me and winks; a thousand sexual innuendos.

  People are rarely as bad as they come across in rumors and gossip columns, but Xavier Black is completely living up to his reputation. In the two minutes I’ve been in his presence, he’s been arrogant, sleazy, and nonchalant about wasting our time.

  “Let’s get you on the mat,” Katherine says briskly, looking at his outfit. “I hope you can move in all that.”

  He’s wearing black skinny jeans, a black shirt and—shocker—the black leather jacket he wears in every paparazzi photo. Which is especially stupid today, as it’s about eighty-five degrees out.

  “I told his assistant ‘active wear’,” I whisper to Katherine.

  She sighs and circles her finger in the air. “Alright, let’s catch Xavier up.”

  Roy goes over the fight choreography with Viktor and Xavier, move by move. They start with the basic body positions and then, eventually, they integrate their fake swords. Jayden and I just watch, as our usefulness has run its course. There’s really no need for us to be here, but Katherine insisted we come along to prepare for when we shoot.

  As the time goes on, beads of sweat appear on the fighting men’s foreheads, and Xavier finally peels off his jacket.

  “Let’s take five,” Katherine says, watching Xavier already walking off the mats. He struts over to where Jayden and I sit, folding his jacket over the seat next to me.

  “Keep an eye on this, will you, sweets?”

  I decide Katherine is far enough out of earshot, talking with Roy and the writer. “I’ll guard it with my life,” I say with a smile. “And if you ever call me sweets again, I’ll shove it down your throat.”

  Xavier’s eyes light up and he grins from cheek to cheek. “You are a fiery one, aren’t you? I like that.” He takes a long gulp from his water bottle, placing it down on the table beside me so that his body is fencing me in on two sides. I know this move. He’s trying to intoxicate me with his glistening chest, spicy cologne, and overly fluffed confidence.

  But it’s not going to work.

  I’ve come too far to get derailed by some wannabe James Dean with a chest tattoo. This film is my moment, and I won’t let anyone get in the way of that.

  “Let’s get back to work,” Katherine calls, cuing Xavier to drop his lingering stare.

  As he walks to the mats, he glances at me one more time, and in the back of my mind I hear a boxing bell. This is round one, and there are too many left to count.

  He grins devilishly, like he knows we’re about to have some fun, and turns back toward the mat.

  Yes, I won’t let Xavier Black get in the way of my success.

  And I have my work cut out for me.

  2

  Xavier

  I needed a sea change, that much I was sure of. And what better place to find one than on the set of a pirate movie? I’ve always been drawn to theatre and film, but never took a punt. It wasn’t until my agent buttered up his good friend Nolan Smith to get me the lead role in his epic fantasy I realized this could be my next move. I needed out of the music industry, especially the music industry in LA. And honestly, segueing from rock star to pirate seemed like a pretty small jump.

  I just wish I could say I’m feeling as confident as I come off.

  But actually, I’m nervous as fuck.

  We burn up the highway toward Burbank and my stomach does that annoying thing it’s been doing all morning. Nothing a bit of Dutch courage can’t help, though. I reach into my jacket and pull out a flask, feeling the burn as whiskey runs down my throat.

  “We’re almost there,” my driver alerts me.

  “Great.”

  It was not great. I’m thinking maybe I’ve bitten off more than I can chew, sold myself a little too well in the meeting with Nolan. If I’ve learned anything in my thirty-four years, it’s to play the person you want the world to see. Fake it till you make it. The truth doesn’t matter, anyway. Only now, the truth is coming out of my pores in the form of nervous sweats.

  I rub my hand down my jeans. I’m acting like a little bitch. Bringing the flask to my lips again, I know there’s only one thing for it.

  Bottoms up.

  We pull into the film studio, and my heart picks up the pace. I’ve been to countless studios to shoot music videos, but this is a different ball game. I’m the new guy on the block. And I hate being that guy.

  I get out of the car and walk to the production office, poking my head through the door and plastering a confident smile on my face.

  “Morning.”

  “You’re twenty minutes late,” Delilah says, pushing past me and stomping across the gravel. “You need to get to wardrobe and then hair and mak
eup.”

  “Will you be coming with me?” I cock my eyebrow at her. She glares in response and keeps walking, pointing to a trailer.

  “There. Go.”

  I smirk, pleased that I riled her up so easily. I think my face just does that to her.

  I’ve liked Delilah from the day I met her. She is strong-headed, feisty, takes no shit from anyone. I like that. She is my kind of woman.

  “I’ll see you soon,” I call out, watching her walk to the sound stage. She has a great ass, too. For a few blissful seconds I’m distracted from the sick feeling in my guts, but then she disappears, and I’m straight back to shitting my pants.

  You need to pull it together.

  You’re Xavier fucking Black.

  I pull out my flask and take another long gulp, before pushing the door to the wardrobe trailer and plastering on another big grin.

  I briefly look at myself once I’m dressed and quaffed to perfection. My hair is tousled and windswept, my cheeks are rosy, and my eyes are rimmed with charcoal. To be honest, it’s not far from the look I rock at most of my concerts. The main difference is the long black coat finished with brass buttons and an upturned collar. And the pirate boots, which are a bit more swashbuckler than my usual style. But whatever—I make it work.

  Captain James Hook, eat your heart out.