Rogue Beast (The Rourkes, Book 12)

by Kylie Gilmore

  11

  Garrett

  I am pumped. I just filmed my first commercial. Ka-ching! Thirty grand in the bank. Mark Perlman knows his shit. That’s my new agent. He got me in for the audition on Tuesday for the aftershave commercial he told me about, and two days later, I filmed it. He says it doesn’t usually happen that quickly. I just got lucky with the timing. Anyway, all I had to do was fake shave in front of a mirror, shirtless; then I rubbed my jaw, pretended to put on aftershave, and smoldered into the camera, saying, “Ready for my woman.” Then I held up Axel aftershave. I pictured Harper when I smoldered. It must’ve worked too because, after it wrapped, the director yelled, “Yes! Bring the thunder!”

  I nearly bust a gut trying not to laugh. He was so thrilled he thanked me profusely because, apparently, it’s unusual to get it in one take. All in all, a great first experience. Pretty fun just to do fake stuff as work. Mark says I’ll get a SAG card for it, which is the union card for actors, and that means he can get me even better, higher-paying gigs only open to union actors. He wants me to audition for a sports car commercial next week and says my rate just went up. What a rush! I never thought I’d be able to afford a house, not for years and years. And now, if I get this next commercial, I could have a down payment. Unbelievable.

  I can’t wait to tell Josie. I ride my Harley through the streets of Manhattan, heading for the studio on Chelsea Piers where they film Living Gold. She got me on the list to get in, excited to hear about my experience. Today they’re having a run-through without the studio audience, but she’s on an hour lunch break. The timing worked out perfect. Funny they call it lunch, even when it’s near dinnertime. It has to do with which meal number it is, related to union rules on number of hours worked and meals allotted.

  Not gonna lie, the best part in all this is that it puts me and Harper on even footing. I proved myself with that commercial, which will lead to the next. No way she can feel like I used her for a leg up. This side gig is completely different from what she does. That means she can relax her defenses around me. I’ve missed her this week. I wear my heart on my sleeve and make no apologies for it.

  After I give the guard at the gate my name and show him ID, I pull into the lot and park. Josie’s trailer is the biggest one. She says you always know where you stand on the job hierarchy by the size of your trailer and whether or not you have to share it with someone. She’s big time now, our Josie girl.

  I tuck my helmet under one arm and knock on the metal door.

  Sean answers. “Beast! I heard you’re our new star.”

  I shake my head. “It was just a commercial. One line.”

  Josie pops up behind him, beaming. “Come in and tell me everything!”

  I join her and Sean at a square table, where they were eating lunch, and set my helmet on the floor. “Okay, first of all, I had no idea it took so many people to make a two-minute commercial.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Josie says. “It’s an expensive production. Now multiply that by a gazillion for a movie. That’s why the studios are always expanding well-known franchises and doing reboots. They want a sure thing to recoup their investment.” She leans forward, her blue eyes gleaming. “So give us the play-by-play from the moment you arrived on set to now.”

  I glance at Sean, who looks amused. That sounds like too much detail. I give her the highlights and confess the one uncomfortable part—I had to wear makeup. I never knew guys wore makeup on camera. Small price to pay for a fun paycheck.

  She claps. “Do the line.”

  I hold up a finger, conjuring Harper in my mind with her classic beauty—her mass of dark curls, the vulnerability lurking in her eyes, her soft-looking pink lips. Damn, I want her bad. I look at Josie and say my line, “Ready for my woman.”

  She squeaks. “Oh my God, he’s a natural. That was amazing.”

  I look away, embarrassed but happy too. “Mark’s getting me a personal acting coach.”

  Josie squeezes my arm. “That’ll help broaden your skills, but, Garrett, you’ve already got the instincts.” She turns to Sean. “Didn’t that just give you chills?”

  “No, actually,” he says dryly.

  She pats his shoulder. “Well, you’re not a woman. The women will love this commercial, and the men will want to be him. What’d you wear?”

  “I was supposed to be shaving, so I was shirtless.”

  “Now that gives me chills,” Sean says with a straight face.

  Josie covers Sean’s ears while she speaks in a stage whisper that’s loud enough for any audience. Sean rolls his eyes. “I saw you shirtless at the lake. You are one gorgeous man. The camera will eat you up.” She takes her hands off Sean’s ears and gives him an impish smile.

  I rub the back of my neck. “Thanks.”

  “Are ya done ogling my baby brother?” Sean asks in an aggrieved tone.

  “I’m giving him my objective professional point of view!” Josie exclaims. “Now, if I had met Garrett before I met you, I would’ve asked him if he had a grumpy older brother and ended up with you anyway, so you can just take it down a notch, mister.”

  Sean chuckles, holds her by the chin and kisses her.

  I look away. Only so many ridiculously happy-in-love couples a guy can take.

  “Is Harper in her trailer?” I ask.

  Josie smiles widely. “I’ll text her to see.” She grabs her phone off the table and texts way too long for a simple question. When will I learn?

  I stifle a groan. I thought Josie would know where she is. “What did ya say this time?”

  She grins. “I just told her you’re here and you’d like to see her. Oh, and also that you did a commercial because I was so excited for you. She says to stop by on your way out.”

  I grab my helmet and stand. “Did she sound upset or happy I did a commercial?”

  Josie shrugs. “She didn’t comment either way.”

  I exhale sharply. “I wanted to be the one to tell her.”

  She grimaces. “I’m sorry. I got excited. Next time I’ll keep my mouth shut about your commercial work.” She mimes zipping her lips.

  I soften. “Sure. I’ll see ya.” I turn and head for the door.

  “Break a leg!” Josie calls after me.

  I turn back. “For my next audition or with Harper?”

  Her eyes dart to Sean, who raises his brows. She gives me a weak smile. “Yes.” She gives me directions to find Harper’s trailer from here.

  “Thanks.” I head out the door. It’s sweet that Josie wants us to get together, but it’s best if she stays out of it. I don’t need to deal with her disappointment on top of my own. Harper and I are far from a sure thing.

  I find my way through the rows of trailers to Harper’s. Joe’s sitting on the steps of it, eating a sandwich. “Hey, Joe, how’s the bodyguard gig?”

  “Sweet. I get an apartment in Gramercy Park next to hers. Only a few guys I’ve had to scare off with a glare. No weapons or shit like that.”

  My chest tightens. I hate that she has strange men harassing her. “Glad she has you.”

  He steps down, getting out of my way. “She’s real salt of the earth. Some of these actresses can be full of themselves, ya know?” He looks side to side. “Not naming names, but my last client was a doozy.”

  “I can imagine. I’m just gonna—” I point to the door.

  “Sure, sure. She’s on call in fifteen minutes.”

  I knock on her door. “Hey, it’s Garrett.”

  “Come in!”

  I open the door to find her on the floor, wearing a V-neck white sweater and a long ruffly black skirt. She’s in the lotus position, her hands resting palm up on her knees.

  “Yoga?” I ask.

  “I do yoga, but just now I was doing my mindfulness meditation. It helps center me and get me ready to go back to work.” She takes a deep breath and lets it out before rising gracefully to her feet. She smells sweet like flowers. Jasmine, maybe? One of my ex-girlfriends was into essential oils and used to
have lots of different scents she experimented with in homemade cosmetics.

  She looks up at me, a wry expression on her face. “So Josie tells me you’re one of us now. SAG card in hand, ready to take the world by storm.”

  “Josie exaggerates. You know how excited she gets about stuff, right? She’s like a puppy, bouncing around full of enthusiasm.”

  She inclines her head and goes to her mini-fridge for a bottled water. She holds it up for me.

  I take it. “Thanks.”

  She takes a bottled water for herself and gestures for me to take a seat on the sofa. I do, setting my helmet on the floor. She joins me, tucking a leg under her and shifting to face me. “Sean dropped off the shelf pegs you sent, and I fixed the other shelf myself. Felt very handy. Thanks for remembering to do that.”

  I bite back a smile at the idea that pushing pegs into a predrilled hole makes her handy. “No problem.”

  She glances at my helmet. “Let me guess, you ride a Harley.”

  “Yup. I was so excited to share my news I forgot to fasten the helmet to the back. Why, do I look the type?”

  “Burly tough-looking guy, uh, yeah.”

  I smile. “I traded my oldest brother for it when he decided he needed a car for his kid. He’s got my black Mazda outfitted with an awesome stereo system. Totally wasted on kiddie songs.”

  She presses her lips together, an amused look on her beautiful face. “A motorcycle and a sporty car. Kinda cliché.”

  “And what do you drive?”

  “When I’m in LA, I drive a Prius.”

  “Electric cars are cool.”

  She gives me a sheepish look. “It’s kinda the LA actor cliché.”

  “Ha! Dissing my Harley cliché when you’re talking about yourself. You forget I’m fluent in woman speak.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Because of your long line of girlfriends, I suppose.”

  I sip my water, considering how to answer. I know better than to talk about an ex to a woman I’m currently interested in. “I’m a serial monogamist, so I get to know women well enough to understand their language.” Now I sound like a woke guy instead of a womanizer. “And I never cheat,” I add. Unlike your ex.

  She shifts uneasily. “Well. Huh. So, how did you like acting?”

  I can’t tell if she’s happy for me or not. Her tone and expression are bland now. The last thing I want her to think is that I was using her as an in. “It’s not like it’s a profession for me. Just one commercial. One line.”

  “You didn’t answer my question.”

  “It was fun,” I admit. A blast, and I can’t wait to do more. I keep that to myself, guilt tempering my happiness. I don’t want her to take it wrong, and some part of me feels like I shouldn’t enjoy doing something that could take me away from the family business.

  She smiles. “Yeah, it can be fun. When I first discovered theater as a kid, it felt like I’d come home. Like I could finally express myself.”

  “By playing someone else?”

  She leans closer, her eyes bright. “You always bring a part of yourself to a role. And sometimes it’s the ugly parts you can’t show the world. It’s cathartic to get that out.”

  “I seriously doubt you have any ugly parts.”

  She hides a smile behind her bottled water and takes a sip. “Thank you. But do you get what I mean? Everyone has a dark shadow side they don’t express. Humans are complicated and capable of a spectrum from the purest of goodness to the darkest of evil.”

  I shake my head. “Not me. I’m not that complicated. And I’m definitely one of the good guys.”

  She relaxes, leaning back on the sofa. “Maybe that’s okay for you to feel that way. Sometimes all it takes is the right look for a guy’s career to take off. It’s much harder for a woman in Hollywood.”

  I snort. “I’m not in Hollywood. It was one commercial. Though I admit I’m thrilled with the money. I’m going for another commercial next week. I mean, I never thought I’d be able to afford a house so soon. It’s mind-boggling how much you get paid for doing something fun.”

  She tilts her head. “There is that.”

  “It was kind of funny to be fake shaving, putting on fake aftershave, while all these serious people are working around me. I mean, the whole thing was funny in a surreal way.”

  She plays with the label on her bottled water, murmuring, “I’m glad you like where you landed.”

  The unsaid words hang in the air: because of me. I need to be sure she knows where I’m at.

  I lean back on the sofa and turn my head toward hers. “Lamb chop.”

  She lifts her gaze to mine, a small smile playing over her lips. “Yes?”

  “I don’t see this as a career path. It’s a side gig. I’m only working with an acting coach so I don’t embarrass myself at an audition. This commercial was just one line, but if it gets more complicated, like, who knows, ‘feed your dog the kibble that will give him well-formed crap,’ well, I need to be prepared for that.”

  She bursts out laughing.

  I relax and grin. “I do want to thank you for your part in opening up this opportunity. I know it was pretending to be your boyfriend at the gala that got me noticed by my agent.”

  She stops smiling, mumbling, “Your agent. Right.”

  I can almost see her defenses going up. “This isn’t something I ever considered or wanted for myself, but it’s here, and it seems stupid to throw away such a lucrative job. You know how much I make in construction?”

  She shakes her head. “I don’t need to know.” She lifts her chin. “We’re even, right? I used you for the good PR at the gala, and you got your start. Quid pro quo.”

  I take her hand, and she stares at it, but she doesn’t pull away. “Now we’re both in a better place. We don’t need to fake anything for PR to help you save face, and I don’t need anything from you but you.”

  She meets my eyes with a wary look. “What exactly do you mean?”

  “I don’t care about being seen with you in public. We’ll do that only if you want it. I want the private part.”

  She smiles a little. “Private part sounds dirty.”

  For once I wasn’t sneaking in a double meaning to flirt. “Harper, I’m not looking to get laid here. I can get that anywhere.”

  “I bet.”

  I cradle her jaw in one hand and gaze into her eyes. “I’ll see you on Saturday for dinner at your place. Is there anything else you want to do?”

  She blinks a few times, looking a bit like a deer caught in the headlights.

  I wait her out, stroking the side of her neck with my thumb. Her skin is so soft.

  She swallows. “My publicist can get me tickets to Wicked. It’s my favorite musical.”

  “I’m there.”

  “Garrett?”

  I push a lock of hair behind her ear and lean close to whisper, “Yeah, lamb chop?”

  Her voice comes out soft, vulnerable. “I don’t know if I’m ready for a relationship.”

  I kiss her cheek, so glad she’s telling me what’s up with her instead of putting up walls. “One date at a time. That’s all. Date number one Saturday night.” I grab my helmet and stand.

  She stares at my helmet tucked under one arm. “Are we riding your Harley to the theater to see Wicked?”

  “Depends how far your place is from the theater. Do you want to go for a ride on it? We could go out of the city on a different day for a joyride.”

  She wags a finger at me. “I’m on to your sneaky flirty language.”

  I scrunch my brows together like I’m confused. I do love to tease in a sexy way.

  She presses her lips together, her eyes dancing with amusement. “You’re good. That was great fake confusion, but now you’re in professional actor territory here.” She draws a circle around herself. “I’m all over those tells.”

  I take a bow. “Then I’ll leave it to the expert. The queen of Summerdale, my favorite watering hole.” I waggle my brows.

 
She huffs. “You are a beast!”

  I wink and let myself out. She’s so fun.

  12

  Harper

  I pace my apartment, consider opening the wine early, and dismiss the thought. It’s Saturday night—date number one with Garrett—and he’s on his way over. Why did he number the date? How many does he expect to have? What happens when we hit a certain number? Do I unlock a new level of intimacy? I’ve never had a guy be so straightforward about what’s going on between us. Most guys won’t even say relationship let alone bring it up before the first date. He’s almost too good to be true. He’s cooking for me and going to see Wicked on Broadway. How many guys would do that?

  I go back to my bedroom and check myself again in the full-length mirror. Is this outfit too much? I usually dress up for the theater, and I always have to look made-up and put together when I go out in public, but does it send the wrong message to Garrett? Do I look too eager? I’m wearing a sheer black blouse with a gold and black full skirt. It’s a little retro looking. I kept the accessories simple—gold hoop earrings, black patent leather heels. A spritz of my favorite jasmine perfume. My hair’s back in a loose bun. It’s wholesome with a touch of sexy. I want to take it slow with Garrett because, well, part of me hopes this might be the start of something special. I need to know on a gut-deep level if he’s worth risking my vulnerable heart. I’ve never been as tough as I wanted to be. I used to cry at everything and thought it was a failing. Turns out it’s useful in my profession because I can cry on cue. My emotions are intense, my sensitivity high, thus, my defense system.

  I remind myself to be wary. He’s in the industry now, and that means he could still want a boost up the next rung of the ladder. I hope he wouldn’t use me like that, but it’s happened too many times for me to completely dismiss the possibility. I’m trying to be happy for him because he’s excited. It seems he’s mostly into it so he can afford to buy a house. That’s a great thing that many people aspire to. Nothing wrong with that.

  A small part of me can’t help resenting how easy it was for him. Because of his looks, he sailed on in there. I had to deal with relentless auditions and rejections. Hundreds before I got a part. When I was fourteen, I commuted back and forth to Manhattan for a year, solo, to go on auditions. A fourteen-year-old girl riding the train and navigating the city to find audition spaces! Looking back, it actually sounds lenient on my grandmother’s part. She probably figured the grueling commute and rejections would end my aspirations quickly. I was fortunate to get a part after a year. He walked in and got a commercial the same week.