by Marion Myles
Cindy arrived with packets of sterile gauze, bandages, and a tube of bacitracin. Rebecca quickly saw to cleaning and re-bandaging the arm.
“How long has it been since they stitched you up? I can’t seem to keep track of time right now.”
Liam, still pouting, walked back into the bedroom. “Around twenty-four hours.”
“Okay. You can have a shower later if you want. A bath would be better because otherwise, I’ll have to re-wrap you. And make sure to use those plastic sleeves they sent home with you. In another day it won’t matter so much.”
He fell back on the bed, cradling the arm to his chest. “Got it, boss. It hurts.”
“I can give you ibuprofen for the pain and swelling.”
“I’d rather have whiskey and Percocet.”
“Yeah, well. You get what you get.”
Returning to her own bedroom, she opened the duffel bag. Bringing out the package of medical supplies, she found the pill bottle in question, siphoned out two and went back across the hall. Cindy held out a small bottle of water and passed it to Liam along with the pills.
He rolled over, pushed up to sitting position, and quickly downed them. Then, toeing off his boots and socks, he unbuckled his belt and dropped his jeans, leaving him in nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs.
Cindy apparently used to this behavior, stooped to gather up his things while, without a word, he pulled back the duvet and climbed into bed.
“Good night,” he said, before turning over and closing his eyes.
“Wait,” Rebecca said when Cindy walked toward the bathroom. “We need to clean the environment.”
“I’m sleeping here,” Liam mumbled.
“Yes, and then you’ll wake up. I’m going to make darn sure there’s nothing in this room for you to ingest. Cindy, can you help?”
Cindy sighed. “Okay. But I only have a couple of minutes before I meet the pool man. Then I’ve gotta get some sleep too.”
It took more than a few minutes to clear out all the bottles of booze in the small bar in the dressing room (and really, what kind of man had a bar in his dressing room?) along with various bottles of pills scattered in drawers and cupboards throughout the suite. When Rebecca started systematically going through the clothes, patting down pockets and checking between folded T-shirts, Cindy backed away.
“I’ve really got to go. I’ll take some of this with me if you like.”
“Thanks. Hey, can you clue me in on any special hidey holes?”
“Um…check inside his shoes. I once found a bunch of coke in his motorcycle boot.”
“You’re kidding?” Rebecca leaned against the wall and rubbed a weary hand across her eyes. “It’s gonna take me days to clear this house. It must be at least five thousand square feet.”
“More like eleven. Give or take a few feet. He only bought it a year and a half ago, and I had to coordinate with the designer. We did a lot of measuring. And that’s only this place. He has a loft in New York and a beach house in San Diego.”
“Oh, God. Well, hopefully, this is the only place he’ll be staying during the next few weeks. If I can get this clean, I’ll at least have a fighting chance.”
“All I can tell you is good luck. Do you need me to wake you later?”
“No…maybe. I’m so turned around I don’t know if I’m coming or going. I guess I’d better get up when Liam does, so if you don’t see me, come drag me out of bed, okay?”
“Sure.”
Rebecca was so bleary-eyed by now she could hardly see straight, but she turned back to her task with grim determination and continued pawing through the massive collection of clothes. Seriously, why did he need so much?
Moving on to the drawers, she decided it was more efficient to empty them out one by one and unfold each item. Sighing, she found yet another stash of OxyContin and added it to the pile on the bench seat. Her eyes were so gritty, she had to keep blinking them open. Eight more drawers to go.
Come, on, soldier. Suck it up and get the job done.
Then she was floating, drifting, swirling through time and space.
“Hey, now. Take it easy. You’re okay. Come on, wake up for me.”
The voice was soft and so soothing. A hand stroked her cheek. She struggled to pull herself out of the mist and open her eyes.
“Good morning, sleeping beauty. Except I guess it’s afternoon. You don’t look too comfortable down there anyway.”
Chapter Six
Rebecca rubbed at her eyes then pushed herself to sitting position. She was mortified to find herself on the floor in Liam’s closet lying on a pile of his sweaters. Obviously fresh from the shower, his left arm still encased in a plastic sleeve, he crouched beside her in nothing but a dark blue towel.
“I’m so sorry. I don’t know what happened.”
“No worries. Didn’t look like you were having pleasant dreams.”
Heat rushed up her neck. Oh, God. Had she been talking, or even worse screaming, in her sleep?
“I don’t remember,” she said evasively. “Did I say something?”
“A couple of things here and there. I’ll just keep them in my back pocket for later in case I need ammunition against you.” He tapped her shoulder playfully. “I’m joking. You didn’t actually say anything, but it looked like you were fighting your way out of the boxing ring. You okay?”
“I’m fine.” She scrambled to her feet and looked around blankly. “Um…what’s happening?”
“It’s almost time to go back to set. I’m gonna grab a bite, and then we’ve got to hit the road. Cindy was trying to find you. What kind of chow do you want?”
“I don’t know. Whatever. A sandwich is fine.”
“Okay. Let her or Simon know.” He pulled at the elastic on the plastic sleeve and eased it off his arm. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna get changed. You have time to hit the shower if you want.”
“I’ll tidy up my mess first,” she said, staring down at the jumble of clothing.
“Isabella will deal with it.” He flicked it away like a fly.
Her eyes tracked over to the padded bench and the piles of drugs and various small bottles of alcohol. “Well, I’m at least taking this stuff with me.”
He didn’t respond. Instead, continued walking across the room to the far wall. Rifling through the jeans, he pulled out a black pair. She grabbed a towel from the bathroom, and after laying it flat, threw all the contraband on it. Her eyes swung back to him.
“Please tell me you didn’t steal anything back?”
“Okay. I didn’t steal anything back. You sure do take this job seriously.”
“Of course I do. Come on, Liam. If you took something, just give it to me, okay?”
Nonchalantly, he perused the T-shirts, finally grabbing one in dark grey with the silhouette of an eagle stamped across the chest. Next, he fished out underwear and a pair of socks, all black.
“Clock’s ticking. If you want to get in that shower, you’d better scat,” he said.
Bowing her head in defeat, she pulled the corners of the towel together, and clutching it to her chest, went back to her bedroom. Of course, he’d helped himself to something from the pile. Why wouldn’t he? She’d have to search the place again when they got back from set.
He wasn’t even trying. Having her here…the whole setup…it was ridiculous when he had no intention of stopping. She wished she could go back in time, face Jack Miller in the airport and tell him hell no she wouldn’t babysit his celebrity client. If it wasn’t for the money, she’d already be gone. Still, she hadn’t signed the contract yet. In fact, she could still be out of there. Like right now out of there.
But out of there to what? It was fifty-fifty if she even had a job to walk back into. Without that, she was truly screwed. No doubt she could scrounge up employment in a week or so, but with her financial situation being what it was, she’d have to take the first thing that came along whether she liked the place or not.
Dammit all to hell. She’d never been a
n impulsive person. Why now and why leap at something that was so far out of her comfort zone? She was so groggy she could barely think straight. Working in the medical field, she was used to getting by on very little sleep, but this felt deeper, harder. Like even if she slept for a week straight, it still wouldn’t be enough.
Stepping into the shower, she stared in confusion at all the knobs and dials. It looked like she could launch a spacecraft from here. Randomly, she turned and stabbed at one and was immediately assaulted with glorious wet heat from all directions. Water came from above and out of the walls at all angles. Steam rose, clouding the glass until she imagined she was in an underwater cave.
She groaned aloud. Maybe it was worth keeping the job with Liam just for the shower alone. She sank onto a little bench seat at the back and bowing her head, took the next few minutes to simply be.
Thirty minutes later, with her damp hair in a French braid, and body slathered in the lotion she’d found in the bathroom—which was the most luxurious thing she’d ever used, smelled like a summer meadow, and probably cost a thousand bucks an ounce—she slid onto the last row of seating in the Navigator.
Larry closed the door behind her, and Cindy handed her a padded bag. Inside, she found a sandwich, a container of fruit salad with mango, melon, and berries, two large cookies that were still warm to the touch, and a bottle of Smart Water.
“Thanks. I didn’t think I was hungry, but this looks awesome.”
“Sure.” Cindy turned to her side and handed a binder to Liam. “Here’s the script.”
“Great. Hopefully, the bastards won’t change it on me again today.”
The sandwich was a turkey club, and Rebecca could swear it was the best thing she’d ever tasted. The turkey was succulent, the bacon cooked to perfect crispness without a hint of grease, and whatever Simon had spread on the bread was creamy and tart and made her taste buds sing the songs of angels.
Larry cleared his throat. “Traffic still looks bad, folks. Sorry about that. Could add about a half hour to our trip.”
“It’s okay. We’ve got enough extra time padded in, and you did warn me,” Cindy said.
When Rebecca had finished her sandwich and closed up the bag…saving the rest of the food for a snack later…she stared out the window and battled to keep her eyes open. Then, with sudden realization, she glanced around the vehicle. This was a safe zone.
If Liam had taken something before waking her in his closet, there was nothing she could do about it now. It was unlikely he’d use again before he got to set, probably hoping to sneak off at some point and swallow a couple of pills or down some shots right before filming started. And unfortunately for him, she was wiser now. As soon as they arrived at the set, he was getting a full body pat-down.
Which meant, for the next hour or so, she didn’t have a worry in the world. Opening her backpack, she pulled out a sweater and puffy vest. She bundled them into a pillow, slipped off her shoes, and lay across the bench seat. It was bliss to close her eyes. Within minutes, the motion of the car rocked her to sleep.
* * * * *
Stepping into Liam’s trailer in Malibu, Rebecca actually felt refreshed. She’d slept for more than an hour and had only woken when Larry stopped to talk to the perimeter security guard before being allowed onto the set. Liam’s wardrobe was waiting for him, and he picked it up and headed off to the back of the trailer, obviously intending to change.
“Hang on there, cowboy. I’m coming with you.”
“Not now, Becks,” he called over his shoulder. “I don’t need the hassle. I’m trying to get my head in the game.”
“Me too,” she said, trotting after him.
Liam slid open a pocket door and walked into a surprisingly grandiose bedroom. A king-sized bed took up most of the back wall, and a large flat screen hung opposite. Under the window on the left sat a chunky, chocolate brown couch. The other wall had a huge section of built-in drawers. She followed him through to the en suite bathroom with a second door leading to a walk-in closet.
Instead of being dazzled, Rebecca only saw more real estate. More places to hide things. Why couldn’t the man live in a one-room shack?
“You wanna watch me strip down again? Fine, be my guest.”
His voice was light, but she thought she caught an edge of something in it. Surely it wasn’t hurt?
“Let’s get something straight. I’m not getting some kind of thrill from this, you know? I wish I could trust you, but that didn’t work out so well yesterday. And now, here we are. It sucks for both of us.”
He stared at her for a full ten seconds then sighed and turned before sliding the hanger onto the hook beside the door. Once he’d fished his cell from his back pocket, he put it on the counter by the sink and unzipped the wardrobe bag. Rebecca saw it was the same button-down denim shirt and stonewashed jeans as yesterday.
Efficiently, he stripped off the eagle T-shirt and black jeans, standing in his socks and underwear, while he balled up the shed clothes and turned to throw them in the shower.
“I’ll take that,” Rebecca said.
“Don’t worry about it.” Opening the glass door, he tossed the clothes on the floor by the drain.
While he was preoccupied working to unbutton the top of the denim shirt and lift it over his head, she slipped past him and retrieved the clothes from the shower, quickly getting by him again and into the closet room.
“Hey.”
He stormed after her, but it was too late. From the front pocket of his discarded jeans, Rebecca pulled out a small white envelope. For effect, she held her hand flat letting the pills fall free.
She squinted at them. “Looks like Oxy.”
“Give those back,” he exploded, grabbing at her hand.
Rebecca spun away and clutched the pills to her chest, hunching around them protectively. When his strong hands grabbed her shoulders and shook her, she went into full assault mode.
Her foot slammed down on his instep which, given he was in stocking feet, made a serious impact. Using as much force as she could muster, she rammed her elbow straight back into his solar plexus. His breath whooshed out in an almighty gasp, and he grunted like a wounded bear.
“Let go of me,” she said through clenched teeth.
He staggered back and bent over, bracing hands on his knees while he caught his breath.
“You’re a maniac,” he finally spat.
“Don’t you ever put your hands on me again. You got that?” She paused, blowing out a breath. The wave of red rage started to subside. “Just count yourself lucky I didn’t drive the heel of my hand into your nose and break your pretty face.”
“You’re fired. You hear me?” He straightened to his full height and rubbed at his mid-section. “I want you out of here now.”
His voice wasn’t raised, but there was plenty of menace in the tone. Looking down and realizing he wasn’t wearing pants, he stalked back into the bathroom, limping a little on his right foot where she’d stomped him. He yanked the jeans on in angry jerking motions.
The surge of boiling hot temper filled her so fast it took her breath away. She shoved the pills in her pocket and stormed after him. “I haven’t signed the damn contract. Technically, I’m not even working for you yet. And besides, buddy boy, I don’t think you have the power to fire me. Jack gets to rule on that one. Why don’t we call him?”
“Yeah. Why don’t we?” Liam snatched up his phone and stabbed at the screen. “Jack, Goddammit. Call me when you get this. I’m stuck here in your mess, and I’m not gonna clean it up. That’s on you.”
They stood glaring at one another for what seemed an eternity until both turned angrily when Cindy poked her head in the door.
“Hi, guys…” She chewed on her bottom lip. “Everything okay? I thought I heard yelling.”
“We’re peachy,” Liam said, his eyes flashing furiously. “Hey, text Larry. Tell him he has to give someone a ride to…” His right arm waved around in the air in front of him in short, c
hopping motions. “Wherever Rebecca lives. She’ll be leaving us now.”
“Oh.” Cindy’s eyes went round in shock. “A courier dropped something off for Rebecca. I think it’s from Dean, Walsh, and Wilson.”
Rebecca smiled grimly. “That’ll be my contract.”
“Toss it. She won’t be—”
Three pairs of eyes flicked to the phone in Liam’s left hand when the first chords of “We Are the Champions” rang out.
“We have a problem,” Liam began. “Little Miss Rebecca is overstepping her bounds, and I want her gone. Tonight. I have to start shooting in under thirty. I don’t need this shit right now.”
“Should I text Larry?” Cindy whispered to Rebecca.
“No idea. You’d know better than me what happens when His Highness throws a temper tantrum.” Rebecca walked over and said the last part straight into Liam’s ear before turning on her heel and marching back out to the living area.
Sure enough, there was a large rectangular UPS envelope sitting on the couch. Since it was addressed to her, she ripped open the label, sank onto the cushion and began reading. Within minutes, she was lost in the legal jargon. She sighed. If she decided to continue on with Liam, she’d have to get a lawyer to look at this for her.
Someone had closed the door to the bedroom, but she could still hear Liam’s angry voice arguing, presumably with Jack, about how he wasn’t going to stand for this treatment from some no-account nurse. A few minutes later, his voice grew louder still.
“No. I don’t have to deal with this. I’m trying to shoot a damn movie, and this is a huge distraction…it’s your problem…that’s not…no…”
Silence descended. Cindy slid open the door and passed Rebecca on her way to the kitchen.
“What do you think will happen?” Rebecca asked.
Cindy shrugged and pulled open the fridge. “I couldn’t say. For the most part, Liam’s a good guy, but certain things…”
“Like someone messing with his booze and drugs?” Rebecca supplied.
“Yeah, that. It sets him off big time. You want a soda?”
“No, thanks. I don’t even know why I took this stupid job. How have you stayed so long?”