The Rock Star (Hollywood Heartthrobs Book 2)

by Tabitha Bree

  The sound stage is buzzing with life as we prepare for our first scene of the day, which happens aboard the pirate ship deck. Sadie glides through the door in her torn, windswept dress and she looks every bit a girl stuck at sea.

  “Ready to fall into an ocean of angry sea lords?” I ask, touching the ends of her salty tousled hair.

  “To be honest, I’m dying a little,” she says. “The underwater scenes kind of freak me out.”

  “You’ll be fine. It’s just like swimming in a big pool. And all you have to do today is fall off the ship onto the stunt bag.”

  “Okay.” She nods, exhaling through her pouty lips.

  “Let’s get everyone ready,” Katherine says to me as she strides onto the set.

  I talk into my shoulder mic. “Dee for Jackson. Can you fly in Xavier?” I turn to Sadie and smile brightly. “Let’s do this.”

  It’s a new day. It’s a good day. And why shouldn’t I enjoy my job a little more? Just because I’m determined to make it to the top, doesn’t mean I can’t relish the journey there.

  “Xavier isn’t in his trailer,” Jackson’s voice comes through my earpiece.

  “Check costume, hair, and makeup. He’s probably finishing up.”

  “I did. I couldn’t find him anywhere.”

  Before I can respond, Katherine is marching toward me. “What’s the hold up? We need principals on set.”

  I take a deep breath, trying to maintain my cool. “Xavier isn’t here yet.”

  “What do you mean?” Katherine looks at me with wild eyes. “This was your responsibility, Dee.”

  “I know, but he said—”

  “I don’t care what he said. I thought I could count on you?”

  Her words sink like rocks to the pit of my stomach, and I feel the healthy smoothie I drank for breakfast rising up my esophagus.

  “Get him on my set ASAP.” She storms off, leaving me with the burden of an impossible jerk and her words of disappointment.

  “Have you seen Xavier?” I pull Jayden aside as my third call goes to voicemail.

  “No, I haven’t—wait, there.”

  Jayden points to the sound stage door where Xavier walks through. If you can describe moving your legs like they haven’t been attached to your body properly as walking.

  “Jesus, did he just hold on to someone’s bumper and let them drag him here?” Jayden arches an eyebrow.

  “What the fuck happened?” I demand, marching to Xavier. “You said you had a car for six thirty!”

  “I guess my driver wasn’t as stirring as you are,” he says with a lazy smile. “I didn’t wake up to their knocking, and they left without me.”

  He looks terrible, like he’s been up all night. Dark circles under his eyes, messy hair, gaunt cheeks.

  “Why do you look like Winona Ryder in Beetlejuice? I thought you were going to cut this shit out?!”

  “Sweets, I don’t have the energy for a lovers’ quarrel. Just tell me where to go.”

  “I’ll tell you where you can fucking g—”

  “To hair and makeup,” Jayden cuts in. “Tell them to be fast.”

  Xavier nods, shoving his hands into his pockets as he exits the sound stage.

  For all the shit Xavier put me in this morning, he is the one who seems to be in the bad mood. He stomps around the set, barking his lines and brooding in his long black coat. And I hate how good he looks when he broods, even when he looks like shit. But that’s not the point.

  The point is, he hung me out to dry this morning. I wouldn’t even be surprised if the driver thing was just a story he made up to make my life difficult.

  We only have time for a five-minute coffee break around eleven because Xavier has made us behind, again. And by the look on Katherine’s face whenever our eyes meet, she’s not going to forgive me anytime soon.

  This is just fan-fucking-tastic. I am literally going to have to babysit Xavier for the rest of production. He can’t be trusted, even when it seems like he’s turning a corner.

  “Cut. Let’s reset and go again,” Katherine says later that afternoon.

  “I think we got it that time,” Xavier says, tilting his body to the side like he can barely hold himself up. He didn’t perk up as the day went on. If anything, he got surlier.

  Katherine glares like she’s trying to shoot holes through him with her eyes. “No, we didn’t. Reset and go again.” She annunciates every word with acid, and Xavier rolls his eyes, returning to his starting position.

  “Why are you being such an impossible brat?” I hiss at him. “I don’t know why you’re fucking mad. Your stupid late ass is the reason we’re behind schedule.”

  “I simply don’t have the time to tell you all the reasons I’m mad, sweets.”

  “Oh, we’re back on the sweets thing, are we? Guess I’m an idiot then.”

  “What does that mean?” he sneers.

  “Because for the briefest of seconds last night, I thought maybe you weren’t the worst person in the world. But oops, my mistake.”

  He laughs bitterly, shaking his head at the floor.

  “Sorry to disappoint you, sweetheart, but this is who I am.” He opens his arms out wide. “And you can say whatever you want about me. It’s nothing I haven’t heard before.”

  He stalks to his mark, and I take a shaky breath in.

  I need a drink.

  “Who wants another round?” Jayden asks the table.

  “Me.” I shoot my arm in the air. “And keep them coming.”

  It was not a pleasant day on set, so the second we wrapped, me, Jayden, and a few other crew members went to the bar, and I invited Sadie along with us.

  “I think he hates me,” Sadie says, sipping her pink cocktail.

  “Who? Jayden?”

  “No, Xavier. You should have seen his face. He wouldn’t even talk to me in between takes, it was so awkward.”

  I finish my whiskey sour. “Oh my God, please don’t worry about that douchehat. He was just being a dick all round today. I don’t know what was up his ass.”

  Sadie smiles, but I can still see the worry in her eyes.

  “You’re doing great. But let’s not talk about the film. Tell me about you. You moved to LA from Ohio?”

  “From a tiny town I won’t bother telling you the name of.” She nods. “I moved out here a few years ago.”

  “When you knew you wanted to be an actress?”

  She smiles down at her drink, tucking her hair behind her ear. “Actually… for a guy.”

  “Ahh.”

  “I know… so lame.”

  “Hey, what’s to say it was lame? It got you here, right?”

  She nods, taking a sip from her martini glass. “We were high school sweethearts, together since we’re sixteen. We both wanted to act, but he was the only one brave enough to move to LA after we graduated. I wasn’t ready yet.”

  She twists a silver ring on her finger.

  “But the long distance sucked. I could tell it wouldn’t work out between us if we stayed apart. It just felt so disconnected. So, I just kind of showed up, surprised him.”

  “Wow.” I raise my eyebrows. “I bet he was happy to see you.”

  “I guess,” she laughs. “But it didn’t take me long to realize he’d moved on.”

  “He had another girl?”

  “No, just a whole new life. Famous friends, money. I didn’t fit in anymore. Anyway, you know how that story goes.” She shrugs. “So, here I am.”

  Jayden comes back, holding the next round precariously between his two hands. “One whiskey sour, one cosmopolitan.”

  I take the drink in front of me, holding it in the air. “Well, in that case, here’s to strong women, and going it alone. Fuck the men.”

  Sadie giggles, holding her drink to mine. “Fuck the men.”

  We chink glasses, and Jayden watches on awkwardly. “I feel somewhat uncomfortable.”

  I laugh and throw an arm around his shoulder. “You’re okay, dude.”

&nb
sp; An hour later and the drinks have kicked in. Jayden is going around the group with his phone in everyone’s face, asking them questions.

  “Jayden, what are you doing?” I snigger as he crouches in front of Sadie.

  “I’m making a memory reel. Now Sadie, do your best ‘shiver me timbers!’”

  “Get away from me,” she giggles, leaning to the side and swatting him away.

  “You’re all going to thank me when we have this footage to look back on. We won’t get to work together forever, you know.”

  “That’s not true. Dee will hire us all when she’s a big-time director, won’t you, Dee?” Sadie grins at me.

  “Mm, I’m not sure.” I bring my finger to my chin. “I might hire people WHO AREN’T SO FRICKING ANNOYING.” I push Jayden’s phone out of my face. “Stop!”

  “One five-minute interview, and I’ll go away,” he says.

  “Ugh.” I drain the rest of my glass. “Three minutes.”

  “All right.” He grins, positioning himself and his phone. “Okay, Dee. Who is the most attractive person on the set?”

  “I’m not going to answer that.”

  “You have to! It’s for memories.”

  Sadie giggles as I roll my eyes. “Whatever,” I grunt. “I think we all know the answer to that—Xavier.”

  Sadie nods in agreement.

  “I’ll try not to take that personally,” Jayden continues. “Okay, next question. What is your honest opinion of Xavier Black?”

  I raise my eyebrows. “You want my honest opinion?”

  “Of course! My interview show is of the highest integrity.”

  “You’re an idiot,” I say as Sadie chuckles into her hand. The buzz is strong. In fact, I might be a little drunk. “Alright, my honest opinion of Xavier Black.” I deadpan the camera. “He’s a dollar-store James Dean wannabe, only without any talent. With a head so big I’m surprised he can get into his costume.”

  Jayden and Sadie start laughing, but I keep going. I’m on a roll.

  “The only people who like him are teenage girls on Instagram, and that’s only because they’ve never met him. He has the personality of a stale beer, and the only people willing to spend time with him are getting paid for it. His girlfriend was blessed the day he cheated on her, because she dodged a lifetime of disappointment. Xavier Black is an asshole, and never seeing him again will be the silver lining to this film being over.”

  Jayden hits a button on his phone, bringing it down so I can see the stunned smirk on his face.

  “Jesus, Dee. Tell us how you really feel.”

  8

  Xavier

  Ever since I read the latest tabloids, I can’t escape the headlines. They follow me everywhere I go; on social media, on the TV. I even heard the gossip on a radio talk show. I was the hot topic of conversation, and I desperately want everyone to shut the fuck up.

  But I can’t go on in this blind rage forever, I know that. I can’t control the rumor mill.

  But I can face up to where the rumors are starting, head on.

  I pull up outside the building and have a weird sense of déjà vu, on account of I’ve been here countless times before. In a lifetime that seems like forever ago, yet one I can’t run away from. For a second, I reconsider going inside.

  Am I really ready to do this?

  But it doesn’t matter. Whether or not I am ready, I have to rip off the band-aid. And the sooner I do, the better.

  I approach the doors and see the name in big, stupid lettering.

  Michael Mathers Management

  Fuck it’s dumb. Why has no one ever told him how dumb it is? Maybe today is a good opportunity.

  I walk into reception and am greeted by the same receptionist who’s been there for the past couple of years. I’m sure she’s sleeping with him. Then again, there aren’t many women Mike hasn’t slept with. Her eyes dart uneasily when she sees me and I wonder if she has a secret security buzzer under her desk like they do in the movies.

  “Chloe, great to see you again.” I smile. “Is Mike in?”

  “Um.” She types on her keyboard. “I think he’s in a meeting right now.”

  “You can tell him I’ll wait.”

  She keeps typing furiously, no doubt IM-ing him from two rooms away. “He’s going to be awhile,” she says.

  I take a seat in one of the padded chairs, crossing my ankle over my knee and smiling. “Tell him I’ll wait all day.”

  She exhales slowly, her fingers dancing over the keys. I wonder if she knows the full story of what happened between me and her boss. And whether knowing the full story would have stopped her sleeping with him.

  “He’ll be out in a moment.”

  “Ah, wonderful.” I beam.

  Two minutes later, Michael Mathers appears from his office, and he’s just as arrogant as I remember. White shirt tucked into beige pants, black jacket, hair slicked back, and a disgruntled snarl on his face. “Well, look what the cat dragged in.”

  I laugh, standing up. “That’s funny, my nanna says that all the time.” I cross the distance between us. “How’s it going, friend?”

  I stretch my hand out and he judges it like I might be hiding barbed wire up my sleeve before meeting me for a firm shake. Very firm. I’m not sure who is trying to break whose hand more. Finally, we release, settling into steely eye contact.

  “I only have five minutes. This better be quick.” He turns toward his office. “Hold my calls, Chloe.”

  We step inside and he shuts the door. Ugh, could he be any more pretentious? His walls are littered with paraphernalia, photos of him with musicians, platinum records, autographs. This is a man who’s in love with himself, and he isn’t afraid to show it.

  “So what are you doing here, Black?”

  I flick the stupid silver windmill decoration on his desk. “I hear you’ve been spinning some colorful stories about me.”

  “Seriously? We couldn’t have done this over the phone?”

  “No, I wanted to see the look on your face when you admitted you talked shit about me to the tabloids for a couple of bucks. Is business really that bad?”

  “I think you’re the one who should be worried about their career, don’t you think?”

  I glare at him, fantasizing about whether it would be more fun to slap him across the face or knee him in the balls. “Just fucking admit it, Mike.”

  He sighs, sinking into his leather chair. “Some reporter came sniffing around for a comment. I wanted them to go away.”

  “So you said I was a disgrace?”

  “Well, what would you call it? Embarrassing yourself like you did. Not to mention the minor detail of you punching me in the face. Or do you not remember the last time you were in this office?”

  “We both know you deserved that.”

  He interlaces his fingers, huffing like I’m being dramatic. A photo on the wall catches my eye—a picture of us at a party after I’d won my first Grammy. Our arms around each other’s shoulders. Huge smiles on our faces.

  My stomach knots.

  “Look, this business isn’t for everybody. You just needed to grow a thicker skin,” he says reasonably.

  My eyes boggle. “A thicker skin? We’re not talking about a bad review in The Rolling Stones here. We’re talking about my life.”

  “You really need to get over it.”

  “And then you blacklisted me to every label in the fucking city!”

  “Again, you punched me in the face. You’re lucky I didn’t blacklist you across the country!”

  “And you’re lucky I didn’t snap your fucking neck!”

  “There he goes again, Xavier Black, the hothead. It’s no wonder Willow had enough of you.”

  “Don’t you fucking say her name.” I push my hands down on his desk, lurching toward him. He flinches, which brings me endless satisfaction. But I’m still seething.

  “You sit here, fueling the fire you started, spreading more of your shit around town… yet we both know the truth.
And you’re not the only one who can talk to reporters.”

  He chuckles, leaning back in his chair. “Oh yeah? And who are they going to believe, the respected music manager, or the two-bit guitarist with a drinking problem and a shitty attitude?”

  He tilts his head, smiling. “Face it, Black. You made your bed the day you put on this ridiculous rock star persona. Now it’s time to lie in it.” He stands up, buttoning his jacket with a smug smile. “Good luck with the acting career. Maybe you won’t screw this one up.”

  I clamp my hands around the edge of his desk, trying to contain the rage bubbling inside me.

  He’s not worth it.

  And he wasn’t. He wasn’t worth the scandal the first time, and he’s not worth it now.

  I push off his desk and head for the door, slamming it behind me.

  When Monday rolls around, Dee is at my door at six a.m. on the dot. And I have a feeling she will be there every day until the end of time. Or at least until we wrap.

  We’ve barely spoken since last week, when I showed up late, the day after I fell asleep wrapped around a bottle of rum. I really had organized a car. But the driver knocking on the door was no match for the deep, booze-induced slumber I was in. There was no use telling Dee this though. She would just be pissed I was drinking in the first place.

  The drive to the studio is silent, as is the walk from my trailer to the set every time she fetches me. By the afternoon, I’m wondering if she’ll ever speak to me again. Not that it matters—she made up her mind about me long before she met me. Most people do.

  I shut the door of my trailer and yank at the layers of wardrobe until they fall to the floor. Usually I like playing dress up, but today, the costume feels like a noose around my neck. How long until this career caves in on me, too? How long until the next scandal? The next lie? Mike said it perfectly: who would believe me, the bad boy? The guy who got famous subscribing to the image of sex, drugs and rock ’n’ roll?

  I sit on the edge of my bed, peeling off the pants so tight they basically cut off my circulation. Jesus, I won’t be able to procreate after this. My balls are squished like playdough.