First Priority

by Este Holland

  He hung up, and I stared at his contact photo on my phone. Yes, I’d downloaded his photo and saved it. It was a candid from the end of one of his films; he was covered in fake blood and radiating joy. How could I not have saved it?

  I checked the time. Three o’clock. I had a date with Truman James in three hours.

  My anxiety spiked. What was I thinking?

  Truman

  After that podcast, I knew I’d screwed up. I shouldn’t have done that without Angela’s approval, but I was more worried about Adam’s reaction. Would he be happy I’d told the world, or angry?

  Something told me it would be the latter, because he wasn’t scrambling to go out with me. No, he was the opposite. Most people vied for my attention; they preened and manipulated, which was why I didn’t have many friends. Daniel was about it, besides some colleagues, of course. But those were work friendships. I was fine with that.

  Adam went out of his way to avoid me. My heart pounded, and I smiled at the sensation. When was the last time that had happened? Maybe when I went into the Coral Sea in a shark cage for a stunt in Deep Surrender.

  I found the address Bill had texted me and a place to park on the street. I’d only be a few minutes, and it wasn’t the worst neighborhood in LA, so I beeped my BMW locked and headed in. I entered the building and saw the name McGuire on the third floor. I went up the stairs and knocked on the door.

  The blond muscle guy from the Bissou answered. He froze. “What? Huh?”

  “We met at my party.”

  “Yes. Yes.” He was down to monosyllables.

  I spoke slowly. “I need you to tell me where I can find Adam.”

  “Adam?”

  “Yes. Your stepbrother, right? Where can I find him? His apartment building is under renovation.”

  “Oh.” He snapped out of it. “Come in.”

  I wished he’d just give me the information so I could leave, but I went in. It was tiny but clean. Mismatched furniture sat on gray carpet, and a flat-screen stood on a console. That was about it in the way of decorations.

  I stood in the middle of the room, arms crossed, waiting.

  “Have a seat. Can I get you anything?”

  “No.” I sat on the edge of the sofa, ready to jump up and leave at any second.

  Chad sat next to me and stared.

  “Your brother?”

  “He’s not here.”

  “Where is he staying?”

  “Here.”

  “So, he lives here?”

  Chad frowned. “For now.”

  I gritted my teeth, feeling a muscle in my jaw jump. “Where is he now?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Okay.” I stood and headed for the door.

  “Why do you want Adam?”

  Of course, he’d meant “Why do you want to see Adam?” But the way he’d phrased it made me pause. That was a good question. I didn’t even know the guy, and I was bending over backward to find him. Daniel’s words at lunch came to my mind, but I pushed them aside.

  I glared at Chad, and he fidgeted with his shirt cuffs.

  “Are you being protective, or are you just being nosy?”

  My candor threw him, and he blinked. “Uh.”

  “Nosy it is, then.” I sighed. “I have a business idea I want to talk to him about. He’s a designer, right?”

  “Yeah, he is. Graphic design. But I don’t know if you want him. Adam’s…”

  “What?”

  Chad gave a harsh laugh. “He has a thing about being around people. He’s probably not a good choice for a project.” He’d tried to sound diplomatic, but it came off as more assholish.

  “I see. Well, I’m confident we can work something out.” Poor Adam. He had to live with this guy? “Can you tell him to meet me?”

  “I would, but he doesn’t have a car.”

  He narrowed his eyes. Chad’s brain had rebooted after the surprise of my appearance and he was starting to wonder if that was what I was really doing there. It was time to wrap it up.

  “Thanks for your help.”

  He tried to speak more, but I left before he could, and hurried down the stairs out into the sunshine toward my car. A man came up to me, wearing a gray hoodie and a ball cap pulled low over his face. I’d expected a pap or a fan, but, no. Instead of a pen or camera, he had a gun.

  Disgusted, I asked, “Are you kidding me?”

  “ ’Fraid not, Mr. James. Give me the keys.”

  Fucking fantastic. I eyed him. I could fight, but he looked fit. Plus…gun. Pursing my lips, I handed them over and called Angela as my car drove away.

  Over the next few days, I tried calling Adam, but he wouldn’t answer. Instead of annoying me, it made me smile. Then I had a photo shoot in New York, so I gave him a small reprieve.

  Imagine my surprise when he called me. Angela had given me hell for saying a guy’s name on Trish’s podcast. Apparently, I’d sent the whole entertainment industry into a frantic search for the mysterious man.

  Every person named Adam I could’ve possibly come across in my entire life was picked apart by the media. But they hadn’t found my Adam yet. Thank God. After hearing what Chad had said, some of what I’d witnessed at my party made sense. Adam hadn’t been drunk like I’d suspected—he’d been nervous. He wasn’t shy, though, at least not about telling me off, so I was curious to hear what he had to say about it.

  I hoped no one spotted me picking him up that night. I didn’t have time to change, so I was still dressed in my tan Tom Ford suit from a talk show interview when I arrived at six o’clock. Adam was standing outside in jeans and a graphic tee I couldn’t make out, looking as good as I remembered. Maybe better. I hadn’t seen him since my party, but I’d been thinking about him so much, it seemed shorter. I hadn’t kissed him, hadn’t touched his bare skin. I didn’t want to wait, but I’d told him no sex, that it was just a date. And I planned to deliver.

  I was still mourning the loss of my BMW as I pulled to the curb in my Vanquish. The police hadn’t found her yet. I was going to get out to greet him, but he hurried to the passenger door and let himself in. His shirt featured some video game, and his hair was a little messy, but he looked good and smelled amazing.

  I gave my best smile. “Hi.”

  “Hello.”

  “I’m glad you came.”

  “Are you?” He sighed. “Well, let’s get this over with.”

  I grinned and raised my brows. “Don’t sound so enthusiastic, Adam. You’ll give me a big head.”

  “I’m sorry. I’m not trying to be a miserable jerk. It’s just that I kind of feel like you boxed me in, and now with that little announcement of yours, I’m constantly wondering what’s going to happen next.”

  I tugged on my bottom lip with my thumb and forefinger as I studied his bouncing knee and darting gaze. “Are you nervous because I’m famous?”

  “I’m anxious in general, so it’s not just you.”

  “I see. Tell me what I can to do make you relax.”

  He pointed at the windshield. “Go.”

  I wanted to lean in and kiss him, but I saw him swallow as he rubbed his hands on his jeans, so I paid attention to the traffic as I drove.

  “Where are we going?”

  “My place.” Before he could protest, I put my hand over his where it rested on his thigh and felt his fingers twitch. Mine tingled with an electric current. “You said you don’t like crowds, and right now I can’t be out in public, so that’s the best option. Just talking and eating.” I looked over at him while stopped at a red light. His face was full of suspicion. “I promise.”

  Adam turned away, and I accelerated at the green light.

  “Okay. Where do you live?”

  “Malibu.”

  “Of course you do.”

  “What’s wrong with Malibu?” I asked, baffled.

  “Nothing. Ignore me.”

  “If I could do that, we wouldn’t be in this situation.” He wrinkled his brow, so I blew past tha
t. “Tell me about yourself.”

  He huffed. “Um…what do you want to know?”

  “Were you born in LA?”

  “Pasadena.”

  “And you still live there?”

  “Right. Um, what about you?” Adam asked.

  “I was born outside of San Diego. My parents are still there.”

  The silence descended, so I cleared my throat and asked, “What about your parents?”

  “They moved to a small coastal town in NoCal. I don’t see them very often.”

  “Do you not get along?”

  Adam shrugged.

  “What about Chad?”

  “What about him?”

  I smiled at his antagonistic tone. “Do you get along with him? It didn’t seem like it at my party.”

  “Not really.” Adam hesitated. “He’s always trying to fix me.”

  My smiled dropped into a scowl. “Fix you, how?”

  Adam breathed in a sigh. “Be more outgoing, more talkative, more social. I’ve tried to explain that I can’t do those things easily.”

  “What do you mean? Explain it to me.”

  “I have social anxiety.”

  “You’re an introvert.”

  “No. I mean yes, but it’s not the same thing.”

  “What’s the difference?”

  Adam made an abortive gesture with his hand. “I’m always overthinking, overanalyzing, and constantly worrying. If I have something to talk about one-on-one and I’m calm, I’m fine…mostly.” He sighed and laid his head on the headrest. “I hate crowds. I get nervous around strangers, and I absolutely suck at small talk.”

  “So, being around people is hard?”

  “Sometimes,” he muttered. “A lot of times.”

  Adam fell silent, and I left him alone. If he hated small talk that much, I wouldn’t force it on him. But, somehow, despite the false starts and stilted conversation, a tension deep inside of me loosened. Having Adam near felt good. He didn’t fawn or simper, didn’t ask for gossip about famous people, how much money I’d made on my last film, or who was fucking whom on set.

  I was halfway in love already.

  Chapter 7

  Two Worlds Collide

  Adam

  I was in Truman James’s car, driving west to Malibu. I’d only been there twice in my life to go to the beach with some people in college. It was a nice place, and nowhere near my stratosphere of everyday life.

  What the hell was I doing there? Was Truman really that pigheaded that he couldn’t take no for an answer? If I thought for one second I’d be able to handle the media or his rich lifestyle, I’d feel like a million bucks. As it was, I felt like a little kid sitting on plastic furniture in Grandma’s formal parlor, not allowed to touch a thing. Truman hadn’t told me not to touch anything; I’d imposed that rule upon myself because I was terrified I’d break some priceless work of art or some expensive piece of electronics.

  Stomach aching with nerves, I blurted, “Let’s go somewhere else.”

  Truman started at my outburst. “Like where? I’m not exactly inconspicuous.”

  I took our general location into consideration. “Turn off at the next exit and head toward Pasadena.”

  Truman glanced over at me with a pensive frown.

  “What?” I asked.

  “It just occurred to me that I really don’t know you very well. Are you planning on putting me in some compromising situation, taking photos, and selling them to the tabloids?” He waited a beat, then gave me a shit-eating grin.

  I smacked his arm with the back of my hand. “Very funny.” Although it kind of wasn’t. It wasn’t hard to imagine people doing that to him, and it almost made me feel sorry for him. Almost.

  He took the next exit and when he got close to our destination, I pointed out a parking garage.

  “It’ll be a few blocks to walk.”

  “I’m fine with walking, but I might get recognized.”

  We sat in the dim garage, the extravagant car a cocoon of cool air and ticking engine noises after Truman shut it off. His cologne or aftershave smelled like high-end sex. Not that I knew what that smelled like, but I could guess. Someone slammed a door and the sharp sound brought me out of my thoughts. I’d been staring at him while chewing on my bottom lip.

  “Sorry.” My face flamed as his mouth curled in a knowing smile. “Um, we can take a shortcut. There shouldn’t be too many people around. Do you have a hat or something?”

  “Yes. I always keep one.”

  He grabbed it from the trunk and folded his suit jacket neatly and placed it inside. The hat didn’t go with his tan pants and boots, but that was okay.

  “This way.” We took the east door, and I quickly led him down a few side streets where only a few people walked. No one even glanced at us.

  “That was easy,” Truman said as I stopped outside the all-night theater on East Green Street. It catered to college students and stoners that ate at the McDonald’s across the street when they got the munchies.

  “This place is playing all the Star Wars movies back-to-back.”

  “You want to see a movie?”

  “Yes,” I said hesitantly. “Is that okay? I figured it’d be dark in there, so you wouldn’t be recognized.”

  “Sure…I just thought we’d have dinner at my place.”

  The way he said it—his voice low and emphasis on the word “dinner”—made my spine rigid.

  “Right.” I crossed my arms. “And by dinner you mean fucking?”

  His dark-blue eyes flew to mine, and he stared hard. I gulped but stood my ground. Half his face shifted in a smirk, and I followed the movement. He had the most incredible mouth I’d ever seen. His bottom lip was full but not pouty, straight and supple looking. His upper lip had a sensual curve with a sharp dip in the middle. When he smiled…well, it wasn’t called his “million-dollar smile” for nothing.

  “Didn’t I say on the phone, no sex?” I asked, impatient to be inside or go home—at that point, I didn’t care which.

  “I could change your mind.” He crossed his arms to mimic me and never broke eye contact.

  My eyes flitted around his face, meeting his intense gaze with every pass. “I doubt that.”

  Truman grinned and laughed. It took me by surprise and my mouth twitched at the sound, but I bit my lips to stop from smiling. He put his arm around my shoulders and steered me inside the theater. He bought two tickets and an array of snacks and drinks.

  We didn’t speak as we settled into seats away from most people. Truman tugged his hat low, but no one paid attention, and he gradually relaxed as the ads rolled. A portion of my brain floated near the ceiling, staring down at us. Truman looked out of place in the cheap movie theater, sitting next to me in his designer clothes. I had on holey jeans, a Final Fantasy tee and Vans, looking like I was part of the scenery.

  Truman should be in Paris gazing at the Eiffel Tower, drinking French wine, and seducing a lover. Or in Milan eating pasta off a supermodel’s fork so she wouldn’t have to. Not eating popcorn smothered in fake butter while his expensive boots got cemented to the floor by spilled soda.

  Why in the hell was he there with me?

  Truman

  “I can’t remember the last time I was in a movie theater,” I said.

  “Seriously? What about your premieres?”

  “I don’t stay and watch them.”

  “Never?”

  I shrugged, feeling like a fraud. “I don’t care, really.”

  Adam studied my profile. I looked over at him and our gazes clashed.

  “You don’t care about your films?”

  An urge to explain myself rose inside me at his pensive expression. “It’s not the same as it used to be. It was exciting at first, but it’s gotten to the point where there are so many reshoots and new directors… Most of the time, I can barely remember who I’m supposed to be playing.”

  I cleared my throat and straightened in my seat. Why had I told him all that? Daniel
was the only one I’d ever confided in.

  I had to give it to Adam, he was stubborn. I admired his refusal to give in and let me take him home and fuck him senseless. But I was horny as hell, and smelling his sweet scent in the close confines of my car and watching his smooth skin flush and shift over muscles in his forearms and neck didn’t help.

  He was wary and hadn’t smiled yet. I found myself craving it, needing to see it. It was odd. I’d never considered such things before, unless it was about a movie scene or a photo shoot. I mean, I liked my smile, but I hadn’t ever thought about a lover’s or, say, Daniel’s.

  “So, do you like Star Wars?” Adam asked around a mouthful of popcorn.

  “No.”

  He stopped chewing, mouth open. I gave a playful grimace of distaste, and he snapped his jaw closed and swallowed with a swig of Coke.

  “Oh.”

  “I’m not opposed to it. I just haven’t watched any of the movies since I was a kid.”

  “Really? So, you haven’t seen any of the new ones?”

  I shook my head.

  “All right, well, this is Episode 1, The Phantom Menace. It’s about Darth Vader as a child.”

  “Okay.”

  He glanced over and smirked at my noncommittal tone. I perked up. Not quite a smile, but not bad. His eyes twinkled in the lights flickering from the screen, and I found myself watching him out of the corner of my eye instead of the movie.

  When I finally cued in, I narrowed my eyes at some ridiculous CGI character. “What the hell is that?”

  A few people glanced at us.

  Adam stifled a laugh. “Jar Jar.”

  “Did you have a stroke? Can you not speak?” I lifted his arm. “Make a fist.”

  He grinned, and I found myself returning it, utterly fascinated. Good thing it was a bright part of the movie or I’d have missed its full impact.

  “No, that’s its name.” He pointed to the screen. “Jar Jar Binks.”

  Without thinking, I reached over and pinched his cheeks between my fingers and thumbs, squishing his lips into a pout. “You’re so fucking cute.”

  I brought my face close to his and raised a brow in question. He narrowed his eyes but gave a small nod. I leaned in and kissed him. It was silly, with his puckered face, and he laughed through his nose, but I released my hold and swept my tongue inside his lips, popcorn butter exploding in my mouth. He opened his teeth, and I got my first taste of Adam Hendrix.