The Rock Star (Hollywood Heartthrobs Book 2)

by Tabitha Bree

  Starfished in my birthday suit, I lie face up, staring at the ceiling of my trailer. I shouldn’t care so much about what people think about me. Sticks and stones, that’s what my dad used to quote when I’d talk about the kids at high school. But opinions get a little harder to ignore when they go viral like herpes.

  I stand up, running a hand through my hair. It sticks to the greasy shit they combed through earlier. Ugh. I need a shower.

  I’m under the water in seconds, relishing being wrapped before the rest of the cast and crew. Maybe I can get home, have a night cap, and call it a shitty day. I dry myself off and stare into the mirror. I really am starting to look like a pirate, the smudged makeup still around my eyes, the five o’clock shadow. I leave the tiny bathroom in search of a fresh towel.

  “Jesus fucking Christ!”

  I jump out of my skin as Dee screams, backing into the wall.

  “Fuck!” I yell. “Dude, knock!”

  “I did this time! You didn’t answer!”

  “Well, that’s why you wait for an answer. I was in the shower!” I scramble to put something over my junk, but she’s blocking my access to everything. She takes one hand down from her eyes and passes me a cushion.

  I sneer, placing it in front of my dick. “Gee, thanks.” I edge past her and open the cupboard, whipping out a towel and wrapping it around my waist. I throw the cushion back at her, which she catches with a grimace before putting it back on the couch.

  “Is there a reason you’re still standing in here while I’m naked?” I ask.

  “More script changes.” She takes a page from her back pocket and puts it on the table. “For tomorrow. Only a couple of lines this time.”

  “Super,” I groan.

  Dee exhales forcefully out of her nose. “Why are you being such a jerk?”

  I grunt a laugh. “That’s who I am. I thought you read the magazines?”

  “Whatever.” She rolls her eyes, heading for the door. I beat her there and press my hand against it, blocking her exit.

  “You hate me, don’t you?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “You hate me,” I repeat. “You don’t know me, but you hate me anyway.”

  I want to hear her say it. I want her to admit that she could hate a person she’d never met before. Maybe I am a masochist.

  “I don’t hate you,” she sneers. “Hating you implies I care about you. Which I don’t.”

  There’s a flicker behind her eyes, a secret. Like she’s hiding something. But what that something is, I don’t know. I keep playing my game.

  “You care about your job, though, and what Katherine thinks about you. And it relies on me showing up, behaving myself.”

  I edge closer to her.

  “But you see… I tried behaving myself, and it didn’t work out so well for me. So this is it, this is who I am. And there’s nothing you can do about it.”

  “God, you’re an ass.”

  Her eyes narrow as she speaks, but then they drop to my lips. She flicks them back to my eyes quickly, like maybe I wouldn’t notice. I grin.

  “Or maybe it’s that you don’t hate me, you just wish you did.” I take another step closer, our faces two inches apart. “Maybe it’s that you want me… and that’s the thing you hate…”

  She inhales sharply. I can see her chest rise underneath her black tank top. Her breath is sweet, scented with the gum she chews all day. My eyes drop to her lips, and I wonder for a second what they taste like…

  She leans in, pressing a hand to my chest.

  And then pushes me out of the way.

  “You had it right the first time. I just hate you.”

  9

  Dee

  I send a car for Xavier for six a.m. sharp, under strict instruction not to leave without him, and to keep knocking until he answers. I know I’m the best person for the job, but right now, I trust the random driver more than I trust myself.

  I can’t be alone with Xavier.

  Try as I might, I can’t get what happened in the trailer last night out of my head. Xavier pressed against me… the low murmur of his voice… the smell of his freshly washed hair…

  His naked body.

  I can’t stand him, but I’m not blind, either. Goddam, it was a sight to behold. The snake tattoo curling from his chest to his shoulder, his rippled abs, the V shape of his hipbones, the trail of hair vanishing beneath his towel… Jesus, I saw it for like two seconds and yet it’s etched into my brain for all of eternity. And I will never admit what I did with the mental image.

  If Xavier found out he was in my spank bank, it would be game over.

  Because that’s what this whole thing is, a game. I am the girl Xavier can’t get. He just wants to prove that he can make me cave. It’s not like he’s into me. He probably isn’t even physically attracted to me.

  I relish the commute alone, taking the opportunity to get my head straight before I arrive at the studio. Okay, Xavier is super hot, whatever. Anyone with eyes knows that. It doesn’t have to mean anything, and it sure as fuck won’t stop me from doing my job.

  I roll to a stop at some roadworks and pull out my phone while I wait. I don’t have time for social media, but now and then I can’t resist a scroll.

  One of the first articles that comes up is about Xavier. I click the link, curiosity getting the better of me. I know why he brings up the tabloids so much. He’s been front page news for months. The story is that fame got the better of him, partying, drugs, women—despite the fact he had a long-term relationship with Willow. And to top it all off, he punched his manager in the face over a minor disagreement.

  This latest article is about why the manager didn’t press charges. He says that Xavier destroyed his life all on his own—he didn’t need to get the authorities involved.

  It’s no wonder Xavier hates all this gossip. It must be inconvenient having your dirty laundry aired for the entire world to see. Even if he’s brought everything on himself.

  I put my phone away, proceeding through the roadworks when the guy signals.

  Not being alone with Xavier isn’t easy, given Katherine has tasked me with being his number one babysitter, but I am a resourceful woman. What’s the use in having people below me if I can’t delegate?

  “Hey Jackson, can you come here for a sec?”

  Jackson walks over to the coffee machine where I’m making myself a cup, extra strong. I need to be alert.

  “I need you to be on Xavier watch today.”

  He draws his eyebrows together. “Xavier watch?”

  “You know, walking him to and from his trailer, escorting him to lunch, making sure he doesn’t have a flask hidden in his pirate suit, that sort of thing.”

  Jackson scrunches his face, mirroring my thoughts on having this job for the past week. “Um… okay.”

  Over in the parking lot, I see a black car roll up. Xavier exits the back door.

  “Speak of the devil,” I say under my breath. “There he is. Can you get him to hair and makeup?”

  Jackson walks over to the parking lot to meet Xavier. I need someone who can read lips—I can see their mouths moving but can’t make out the words. Xavier grins, shaking his head at the ground, before looking straight up to where I’m standing.

  I avert my gaze immediately, grabbing my coffee and marching toward the sound stage.

  The set is buzzing with activity. Today we have about twenty extras here, and they fill out the old village pub set. It’s perfect, because when Xavier struts onto set followed by Jackson, he blends in with the other people in old-timey outfits.

  Almost.

  He could never completely blend.

  But my plan is working a treat. Xavier doesn’t have a second to be alone with me. And every time he tries to do that crooked smile thing, peeking over with his dark-rimmed eyes, I expertly avoid him.

  I announce it’s time to break for lunch, and the cast and crew file out the sound stage door. Jackson is on Xavier like whitening strips on an i
nfluencer, herding him out like the good little shepherd he is. My plan is magic. I can actually have a breather.

  I decide to stay on set for lunch. I’m weirdly buzzing inside, too hyped up to eat a big meal. So I settle for the muffin I swiped from craft service but haven’t had time to eat. The cakey goodness is soft and sweet and I chew, thinking about the rest of the shoot.

  We still have over two months left of principal photography. In many ways, we have only just begun. Taking back responsibility for Xavier is inevitable, I know that. Eventually he will retaliate again, mess up, cause trouble. And I want to have a tight rein on him when he does. I just need today. Just one day to put some distance between us.

  “So this is where you’re hiding.”

  I nearly choke on my muffin. There he is, creeping up behind me. That goddam smirk on his face.

  “What are you doing here?” I mumble through a mouthful of carbs.

  He comes to a stop in front of me. “The question is, what are you doing here?”

  “I’m trying to have one peaceful moment during a hectic day. Why aren’t you in the lunch tent? Where’s Jackson?”

  Xavier grins, nodding. “Ah, so you did sick the PA to keep an eye on me? Clever move.”

  “Well, someone has to. You’ve proven yourself incapable of contributing to this film in any accountable way.”

  “Yet I thought you had the job of watching me.” He takes a step closer. “What happened? Your eyes couldn’t take it?”

  “It must be exhausting, keeping track.”

  “Of what?”

  “Of if you’ve hit your quota of fuckboy comments to make every day.”

  Xavier laughs. “I reserve most of them for you.”

  “Lucky me,” I say, trying to make my voice even.

  I quickly realize I’m surrounded by a wall, the back of the set, and Xavier, leaving only one exit option. I stand up, suddenly feeling warm under my shirt. I should have gone with a tank top again—the button-down traps too much heat.

  Xavier is truthful about reserving his comments for me. For his infamous womanizer reputation, I’ve never really seen him chatting to any of the females on set when it isn’t to do with the movie. Even filming with Emma—who is your standard Hollywood bombshell—he doesn’t seem interested in talking between takes.

  “Why are you avoiding me?” He tilts his head.

  “I’m not avoiding you.”

  “Yes, you are. You’ve been avoiding me since yesterday, when you barged into my trailer and caught me in the buff.”

  “You say that like I did it on purpose.” I roll my eyes.

  “Well, if the shoe fits.”

  “The shoe most definitely does not fit. The shoe is tight and gives me blisters. I fucking hate that shoe. I want to light it on fire.”

  “Jesus, you really have it in for the shoe.” He laughs. “But I don’t buy it.”

  He takes a step closer to me and I can see the rough chest hair through the opening of his shirt… smell the product they put in his hair…

  “I think you’re avoiding me because you felt something too.”

  Too?

  His blue eyes bore into mine, and suddenly I can’t read him. Is he testing me? Fucking with me? I don’t know. All I can think about is that weird feeling in my stomach… the swirling, fluttering sensation that made me flee last night.

  “The thing is, I’ve been thinking about it… what it would feel like.” He takes another step. “What it would taste like…”

  I try swallowing, but my throat has gone dry. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” My voice is hoarse, raspy. I need to quench my thirst… but my mind is messing with me, telling me I need something else.

  “We’re two consenting adults. I know there’s an attraction here, Dee. I know it… and you know it… So, why should we fight this?”

  “Because I can’t stand you,” I hiss.

  “Is that so?” He puts his hand on the wall behind me, officially blocking my only exit. I know I could say no, push past him. But by blocking my path, he’s tested my resolve… and it’s weakening. I know I should go, bolt, run like hell. But the feeling in my stomach is migrating south… tingling in places that have stayed dormant for too damn long.

  “I think you can’t stand to be around me because you’re thinking exactly what I’m thinking. And you know you could have it… it’s just as simple as giving in…”

  He leans his head down to mine, and I think my heart will literally burst from my chest and bounce away. I’m dying.

  “You want this,” he says, his voice low. “You want this as fucking bad as I do.”

  And I’m done.

  Our mouths collide. I claw my fingers into his hair as his hands grip my waist. His tongue massages against mine and the feeling inside me burns, teases, drives me insane. He pushes me against the back of the set and the pressure of his body against mine is like a kink in a hose finally being smoothed out, allowing the water to flow, reminding me of what I’ve needed this whole time.

  Our kiss is primal, desperate, our lips moving in frenzied rhythm, biting and nipping and then going in deeper. He tastes like spices and I wonder if he snuck a flask past Jackson, but I don’t care. At this moment, all I care about is devouring him. Every. Last. Bite.

  We pause for a moment to come up for air, more out of necessity than anything else. I don’t want this kiss to end. I never want this kiss to end. I gasp and focus my eyes and see his staring back, piercing blue.

  And then I come to my senses.

  I pushed past him, walking a few safe feet away before spinning around to face him. “That did not just happen.”

  He chuckles and scratches the back of his head. “I think you’ll find it did.”

  “No. This is not happening.” I point my finger back and forth between us. “You will not distract me from my job. This will never happen again.”

  Before I can reconsider, I march toward the sound stage exit in wide strides.

  “Keep telling yourself that,” Xavier calls out just as I reach the door. “I think we’re only just getting started.”

  10

  Xavier

  If kisses won Academy Awards, the one I had with Dee would be the front runner.

  It’s not just that it was hot. And it was. It was fucking hot. I’ve never been so turned on in my life, and I’m pretty sure her pelvis would’ve been able to tell. But it was more than just hot. It woke me up, literally shook me awake. For the first time in weeks, I felt excited, motivated. I’ve spent too long being hung up on shit that’s in the past and I can’t control. Maybe I should’ve been looking to the future.

  Maybe things are looking up?

  We’re shooting on location today, and I have just enough time to go for a run before Dee’s driver comes to pick me up. I’m not delusional. I know she won’t be getting me herself. It has been days, and her avoidance tactics are getting stronger, more thought-out. She is never anywhere without at least three people around her, and she sent Jackson to do all my chaperoning. From the outside, you’d be forgiven for thinking she is actually afraid of me. But that isn’t it. If it was, I would’ve backed off straight away.

  No. She’s avoiding me for another reason.

  She wants me too.

  I hit the pavement, the impact of my shoes on the road shaking my core. As I run, I think about Dee.

  I know what’s going on now. We have insane sexual chemistry, and now that it’s been unleashed, I can’t ignore it. I had a feeling, and that night in the trailer and the kiss confirmed everything. Me and Dee are fire.

  I can’t stop thinking about it… her soft, full lips. The sweet blueberry taste on her tongue. The way her hands felt pulling at my hair. Fuck. I’m going to get hard just remembering it.

  Turning a bend, I make sure I’m facing oncoming traffic. People drive crazy around Mulholland, and I don’t want to be the latest statistic on the news. I’m only five minutes from my house when my lungs start to feel cons
tricted, like the entire crew is sitting on my chest.

  This is just embarrassing.

  I need to work out more.

  I come to some railing overlooking the city below and stare out while I catch my breath. It’s not just my fitness I have to get sorted out, it’s my whole life. I feel like I’ve been held hostage, just waiting for the next person to make a dime from their lies about me. Waiting for the next blow. So much has been taken from me, and I deserve to get something back.

  I pull out my phone, opening the thread of messages between me and Willow. It’s been a while, and the last few exchanges aren’t pretty. I move my thumbs over the screen, keeping it short and succinct. No time to fuck around.

  Xavier: We need to talk about Benson.

  I hit send and take a deep breath. It’s going to take more than a few texts to get my life sorted out. But I have to start somewhere.

  I arrive in Marina del Ray, pulling up to the harbor from where we’re setting sail. We’re filming on an actual ship today, and I’m fucking stoked.

  They set the unit base up on shore, where I get ready in my usual costume. And just quietly, I’m wondering how the fuck I’m going to swim in it. They need a shot of me and Sadie walking the plank and dropping into the ocean below. It will be embarrassing to have to get rescued on one of those fucking floating devices. I think I’d rather drown.

  “All aboard!” Jayden calls out to the cast and crew, and I wonder how long he’s been waiting to say that.

  As I climb onto the deck in my head-to-toe pirate get up, it hits me.

  This is the coolest fucking thing ever.

  When everyone needed is on board, we set sail, moving a few hundred feet into the ocean. The ship is fully decked out with all the trimmings, from the mast to the sails to the jolly roger, rippling in the breeze above our heads. As one of the makeup girls adds some fake scratches to my face, I spot Dee near the head of the ship, messing around with Sadie and Jayden and pretending they’re on the Titanic. It’s nice seeing her laugh. She sees me watching and looks away.