I felt Jimmy watching me as I laughed with Jerome. All night, we’ve played a game of cat and mouse, catching each other stealing glances at one another, but not speaking. I’m confident that we’ll be made up by tonight.
Right now, I’m the good-time girl and fucked up enough to push everything Jimmy said earlier to the back of my mind. I miss him though, and the more I drink, the more I want him.
“Feel like going for a dip?” I ask Jerome.
His gaze meets mine, his eyes hooded. “Damn straight. We doing this with or without clothes?”
I laugh and lean forward to touch his shoulder. “Let’s start with our clothes on.”
Without waiting for him, I scream, run, and jump into the pool.
He follows me, doing a cannonball into the deep end. The minute he surfaces, he swims over to me, but I escape his grasp, playing a game of keep away, garnering the attention of everyone on the deck.
Jerome grips my wrist and tugs me back into his body. I laugh as he raises me up over his shoulder before tossing me back in. I sputter a bit as I stand and pull my hair off my face. A couple of other people jump into the pool, fully clothed, to join the fun.
My eyes seek out Jimmy sitting in a lounger. Adelaide is sitting where Tripp was moments ago. Jealousy flares so deep, I swear if you cut me open, my blood would be green.
I have no right. I gave him his walking papers hours earlier at our sacred place.
* * *
Hours later, Jimmy and I have flipped spots. I’m on the pool deck, my clothes almost dry, and Jimmy is horsing around in the pool. He and of his friends are playing a drunk version of Marco Polo. Adelaide is with him. Of course she is. She hasn’t left his side all night.
I hate the way she looks at him.
It’s pitiful really.
He catches her because she purposely moved into a corner where she couldn’t escape. He wraps his hands around her and she laughs and squirms in his hold, loving every minute of it, I’m positive.
Bitch.
“Okay, Adelaide, you’re it!” one of the other guys calls.
“I’m gonna get myself a drink. Anyone else?” Jimmy asks, swimming over to the stairs.
No one takes him up on his offer. Adelaide stares at his bare chest and every other part of his body while he emerges from the water. He grabs a towel to dry off and talk to Tripp for a minute before heading inside.
I glance at the passed-out Jerome next to me. Lightweight.
I walk through the sliding glass doors, heading inside.
Jimmy’s not in the kitchen or the living room, so I walk down the hallway to his bedroom. He’s tossing the wet shorts over his glass shower wall.
Perfect.
I close the door behind me, securing the lock.
He turns around. “What are you doing?”
“Do you care about her?” I ask, pulling my shirt over my head and stepping in his direction.
His gaze darts to my black lace bra. “You know I don’t. Not like that.”
“How do you like her then?” I ask, slipping my skirt over my ass so it slides down my thighs and pools at my feet.
“As a friend.” He swallows hard, his eye scorching the closer I get.
I’m drunk on the power surging through my veins. For most of my life, I’ve been powerless. It’s only during times like this, when I can bend a man to my will using my body, that I have control over what happens.
I shrug, stepping out of my skirt. “We’re just friends.”
“We’ve never just been friends and you know it.”
“So there’s nothing between you two?”
We’re almost chest to chest. I’ve purposefully left an inch of separation between our bodies. His body heat projects toward me like a magnet drawing me closer.
“I swear to you, there’s not.” He sticks out his pinkie finger.
I wrap my own digit around his and the panic that consumed me watching the two of them eases out of my pores. He flings our hands to the side and wraps his arms around me, dragging me against him. His lips press to mine.
Our kiss is passionate but laced with anger as our tongues duel for control. His hands run up and down my back until he unclips my bra, slides his hands down my back, and squeezes my ass until a satisfying moan slips from my lips.
Just as we’re getting started, he rips his lips from mine. “Don’t you ever try to manipulate me with your body again. You already own my heart and soul.”
I have no time to respond before his lips are back on mine with fire and fury. I clutch at his skin, trailing my nails down his back, claiming him as mine. We kiss, and Jimmy works my bra straps off my shoulders before inching back from me so the delicate fabric can slip to the floor between us. My hard nipples press into his muscular chest and a groan from deep in his throat escapes. He’s always loved the moment our chests first meet when we undress.
His hand roams between us, dipping past my panties to find me hot and wet. His groan turns to a growl. I moan as he uses his index finger to play with my nub in slow circles. The sensation is too overwhelming and my knees buckle, but Jimmy uses his strength to keep me upright.
He pushes one finger in, then two, while his thumb manipulates my clit. There’s no tenderness in his actions. His movements are raw and uncoordinated and desperate. I hold his eyes as he studies my face while manipulating my body. My muscles tense in anticipation of my orgasm, but he doesn’t relent, working me endlessly.
Just when I can’t handle any more, just when I’m shaking my head and begging him to stop, he pushes down on my clit with his thumb and I gasp, detonating like he wishes. White heat races up my spine and between my legs. I am everything and nothing all at once as I scream his name. He rips my panties down my legs, lifts me by my ass, presses my back to the wall, and pushes inside me.
“Why do you have to always push me?” he roars in my ear, driving into me.
He removes one hand from my waist and forces my chin up to make me look at him. He stills inside me, waiting for an answer.
But I don’t have one to give.
Recognition flashes in his eyes when he realizes he’s not going to get an answer from me. “Sometimes I think I hate you as much as I love you.”
His words cut deep, and a small part of me welcomes the sick sense of satisfaction when they leave his lips. If there’s hate, it will be easier for him to leave me one day.
He thrusts inside me again, over and over, with anger and desperation driving him. Jimmy fucks me as though I’m a whore who means nothing to him, rather than the girl he’s saved his entire life.
His face tucks into my neck and I grip his shoulder, my other hand clutching at the hair at the back of his head while he pounds into me. There’s no concern for my own pleasure. He’s taking what he needs, and I don’t fight him because isn’t this what I was trying to push him to do in the first place?
With a few uncoordinated movements and one final thrust, he empties himself into me. His cock jerks inside me as he rides out his climax.
Neither of us moves or says a word. Our heavy breathing is the only sound, the scent of our sex the only smell. It’s the messed-up relationship between Jimmy and me.
Once he regains his normal breathing, he pulls out of me and gently sets me on the floor. He doesn’t say a word and doesn’t look at me while he swipes a new pair of shorts out of his dresser and steps into them.
For the first time, it’s awkward after we have sex. I’m not left with the security of love and feeling cared for and wanted. I feel used and cheap and dirty. Three things I have never felt in Jimmy’s presence.
Covering my breasts with one arm, I retrieve my undergarments from the floor. He waits until I’m fully dressed to speak.
“I think it’s best if you leave,” Jimmy says in a flat voice.
My blood, heavy and thick, slows in my veins.
“Okay.” I turn and leave.
“I think…”
The pain in his voice is the only reason I
turn back.
He stares at me with wetness in the corners of his eyes, wearing his pain as clearly as if it were a shirt. My very transparent Jimmy, vulnerable in front of me.
“I think it’s better if you don’t come back.” He squeezes his eyes shut and runs a hand through his hair, shaking his head to himself.
Oxygen sucks from my lungs and I stagger back a step. “Wh-what?”
He opens his eyes and his expression is a mix of disappointment, desperation, hurt, and anger. A complexity of emotions I know well from my own existence. “Everyone is right. You’ll ruin my life if I let you.”
“You don’t really mean that,” I whisper.
But he does. Otherwise there would be no hurt and disappointment in his eyes. He means every word. I’ve pushed him to his final breaking point, strung him along for too long, dangled the carrot long enough.
“I do mean it. For most of my life, I’ve tried to fix you. And I’m tired. So tired.” His shoulders sag. “I can’t do it anymore. I can’t be your Mr. Fix-It. I can’t be the one to clean up your messes. I can’t be the person who cares more about you than you care about yourself. It’s too painful to watch you spiraling to nothing.”
“But I love you.” The words slip out. Words I’ve held off saying to him for most of my life for fear that saying them would strip him away from me.
“How could you possibly love me? You don’t even love yourself.”
I laid myself out and he threw my words back at me.
Well, I’m not going to stay and fight for someone who wants me gone.
I turn, and I run.
Chapter Twenty-three
Jimmy
“I can’t be sure, but was that a smile?” Adelaide raises her eyebrows.
I push her shoulder lightly, and she loses her footing for a moment.
“What? It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you smile unless the script dictated it.”
She’s not wrong, but I roll my eyes. It’s been a month since I kicked Lilah out of my house. The longest we’ve ever gone without speaking. Sure, we’ve gotten into some rip-roaring fights in the past, but one of us always came crawling back.
That’s not the case this time. As painful as it was to speak the words, I meant them. It took way too long to reach the conclusion that I can’t save her—she has to want that herself.
Life hasn’t been easy since then. Not an hour goes by when I’m not thinking of her and wondering what she’s doing. Whether she’s taking care of herself, supporting herself, and where is she living? Will the questions and concerns for Lilah endlessly haunt me?
“I haven’t been that bad, have I?” I ask, attempting to act normal. I grab a cookie from the craft service table.
Adelaide picks up an apple and shrugs. “You haven’t been unbearable, but it’s been clear that something is bothering you. Want to talk about it?”
I sip my water. “It’s been tough. We’ve known each other forever.”
Her lips turn down at the corners. “I’m sorry. I’ve lost a lot of friends due to this business.”
“Yeah.” I look at my water bottle, tilt it to my lips, and finish it. “It was a long time coming.” I crush the bottle in my hand and shoot it into the recycling can.
“Maybe you guys will sort out your differences.” She reaches across the table and places her hand on mine.
It’s a purely platonic move, but I’m man enough to admit that having someone comfort me feels good. What I don’t tell Adelaide is Lilah is, or was, my family.
“Maybe.” I shoot her a smile that says I doubt she’s right. “The ball is in her court.”
Adelaide nods, probably understanding the undercurrent of what I’m not saying. Or maybe not. Who knows? The more I’ve gotten to know her, it’s clear that she’s the complete opposite of what this town chews up and spits out. God only knows how Adelaide remains intact in Hollywood. This city is full of sharks ready to devour anyone at the first sign of weakness.
“Well, I hope it all works out,” she says with sincerity and finishes her apple.
One of the production assistants approaches our table. “Mr. Butler is here and wants to see you both in Jimmy’s trailer.”
What the hell is Bernie doing here?
“Okay, we’ll be right there,” I say.
The production assistant nods and scampers away.
“Any idea what that’s all about?” I ask Adelaide.
Her eyes are wide with reservation. “None.”
“Well, let’s get this over with.” I rise from the table, taking another water with me, and wait while Adelaide throws away her apple core. “I don’t like this,” I say to Adelaide as we walk across set.
Nothing good ever comes when Bernie makes a surprise visit.
“I’m going to head to the bathroom quick. I’ll meet you at my trailer.” I step toward the bathroom.
“Oh, I’ll wait.” She stops alongside me.
“No, go, Adelaide. I’ll only be a few minutes and you know Bernie, he doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
She glances around and then leans toward me. “I’d just prefer to go with you.”
The scared look in her eye clears up what she’s saying under her words. “No problem. I’ll be a few minutes.”
Her smile isn’t as big as I’m used to seeing, but she pulls out her phone while I disappear into the bathroom.
* * *
We step into the trailer, and Bernie sits with his arms and legs spread like king of the fucking world. Which I suppose in this town, he is.
“There’s the guy who’s going to make this studio a shit-ton of fucking money when this movie releases.”
“Hey, Bernie. How are you?” I sit in the chair across from him.
Bernie motions for Adelaide to do the same, though he says nothing to her. “Never been better. I’ve looked at the dailies, and things look like they’re going well. Chemistry is sizzling.”
He sounds way too happy. Did they hire a double?
“Yeah, Scott seems happy with them, don’t you think, Adelaide?” I turn my head in her direction, and she glances at me, nodding silently.
“And how are you two getting on?” Bernie points between us.
“No problems on my end,” I say.
“What about you?” Bernie asks Adelaide the first question since she walked in.
“James has been really easy to work with.” Her voice sounds shaky. If I didn’t know better, I’d say she’s scared.
“Great, great.” He claps once and somehow manages to lift his rotund frame up off the couch. “I got some news yesterday, and I’ve been trying to figure out a way to make the problem go away.” He paces the length of the trailer, his forearms resting on his stomach, his fingers steeped.
Unease creeps up my spine. “What’s up?”
“I got word that Vanguard Studios is putting out a new superhero series based on Malcolm Treader’s books. They’re fast-tracking release so it beats our movie to the box offices.”
Malcolm Treader’s books are a huge hit and sat on the New York Times bestseller list for close to a year, so I’m not surprised that a studio optioned the rights and is making a movie. The timing couldn’t be worse though.
“Shit. That’s not good. What do you have in mind?” I ask.
“I’ve already talked to Scott and the production team, and there’s no way we can move up our release and do the film justice. So we’re going to have to be creative. Creative enough to make sure our movie appeals to the public more than Vanguard’s does.”
I glance at Adelaide. She sits quietly, watching with wide eyes as Bernie paces in front of us.
“What’s your plan?” I ask.
Bernie stops between Adelaide and me. “An on-set romance. Not original, but nothing grabs people’s attention and gets them talking more than a romance between costars.”
I stare at him. Foolishly, I expected him to say they were going to double the marketing budget or bring in a big-hitter to do
a cameo.
“You want Adelaide and I to date?” My forehead creases, and I glance away from Bernie to see Adelaide’s reaction.
“Date. Don’t date. Fuck. Don’t fuck. I don’t really care. But as far as the world is concerned, I want you two to appear like the happiest fucking celebrity couple out there. I want the paps making up a stupid celebrity couple moniker for you two, and I want teenage girls scribbling Mrs. James Crawford in their notebooks, you follow?” He crosses his arms and stares down at us. It’s an order, not a request.
We both nod.
“What is it you want us to do exactly?” I ask.
He tosses his hands up in the air. “You don’t have to do much now, but maybe get coffee or let Adelaide pick out an outfit for you on Rodeo Drive. Let them think something’s happening even if it isn’t. But closer to Vanguard’s release, you’ll have to be been seen together a lot. Let the press trickle questions in their magazines, on their blogs, on their shows about whether you are or aren’t dating. Eventually, let them snap a picture of you two kissing to really fuel the rumors. It’s not rocket science, for fuck’s sake.”
“How long are we supposed to pretend?” I ask, since Adelaide is strangely mute.
Bernie shrugs. “Who knows? We’ll see how it goes. Just wanted to make sure we have an understanding.”
I blow out a breath and push my hand through my hair. Though I hate the idea of pretending anything to the press, he has a point. Couples sell movies. Whichever film is able to capitalize on the organic interest of the press and the public’s appetite for scandal will come out on top. Hollywood is a strange place, where it’s good for business if people are talking behind your back, and it doesn’t matter whether it’s truth or lies.
“I assume this isn’t up for discussion?” I ask, looking at Adelaide, who’s playing with her hands in her lap.
“There’s nothing to discuss,” Bernie snipes. “We’ve all got a lot riding on this film and this has to happen. You’re both the leads.”
My jaw tics, but I nod.
“Adelaide?” Bernie questions.
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