Blow My Fuse (Hollywood Demons Book 2)

by Autumn Jones Lake

  “Babe, what are you doing?”

  “Andrew strikes me as the kind of guy who would have hidden cameras set up,” she whispers.

  “Can’t disagree with you on that one,” I whisper back.

  She chuckles softly and unbuttons her jeans.

  “Let me do that.”

  “I’m leaving everything else on,” she warns.

  Once we’re settled under the covers, she cuddles up and rests her head on my chest. “Did you have fun?”

  “Fun?” How do I answer her question? Andrew’s a big personality. Jamming with a band I admire was pretty damn cool, though. “It was an experience. My mind’s a little blown.”

  The bedroom door bursts open, bouncing off the wall with a sharp bang.

  Mallory and I shoot straight up.

  Andrew grins at us. “Are ya fuckin’?”

  I’m too stunned to answer or yell for him to get out. Shocked from the intrusion and the fact that he’s wearing nothing but what appears to be a black leather thong. The material seems to be having trouble containing him. Why is everyone flashing their crotch tonight? Pamela’s pussy earlier had been one thing. But I’m in no way interested in getting an eyeful of Andrew Lane’s log and berries.

  “What the fuck, man?” I bite out.

  “Oh.” Andrew grins. “Door doesn’t lock.” He crosses his arms over his chest and leans against the wall. “Sooo, why aren’t ya fuckin’?”

  “Because we knew a crazy person was going to bust in on us?” Mallory must sense I’m about ready to answer with my fists.

  “Ha!” Andrew claps his hands and points at me. “You two are totally rad. Night!”

  “What the fuuuuck was that?” I groan and stare at the door. “Maybe we should go home.”

  Mallory eyes the door. “He might follow us.”

  Neither of us settle back down right away. I keep my eyes trained on the door, concerned it will burst open any second, and this time, Andrew will be naked.

  A shriek echoes down the hallway. Loud moans and steady banging follow.

  “Should we barge in on them?” Mallory shakes with laughter. “Maybe critique their skills?”

  “No. They’d probably enjoy that.”

  “Party time!” someone yells.

  My body tenses, waiting for another intrusion, but the footsteps pound away from our door.

  “Jesus Christ,” I mutter. “Come here.” I pull Mallory closer and bury my face against her hair.

  The chaos continues into the early morning hours.

  I don’t remember signing up for the circus; yet, here we are.

  The bits of sleep I manage to capture fall in between moments of questioning the whole night.

  I can’t decide if meeting Andrew and Vinnie is the beginning of something great for the band.

  Or the end of everything.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Mallory

  “You didn’t get the part.”

  One thing my agent is known for is her directness.

  Still, sometimes I’d like to have bad news broken to me gently. I don’t have to ask which part. It’s the one I’ve been calling and pestering her about every day since the audition.

  “They went with Pamela Scott. But from what I heard, it was a close call.”

  Pamela Scott. Why couldn’t it have been anyone else in the world?

  “Close. Great.” I hang my head, wishing I’d stayed in bed this morning.

  “Hey,” Marilyn snaps. “Out of four hundred girls, they narrowed it down to you and Pamela Scott. I’d stay that’s fucking amazing, kid.”

  Well, when she puts it that way. “I guess so.”

  “It’s close to pilot season, you’ll be running yourself ragged all over Hollywood soon enough.”

  “What else?”

  She flicks a piece of paper at me. “Commercials. Coffee. Pancake syrup. You’re perfect for both.”

  “Thanks.”

  It wasn’t meant to be. It’s okay. I try to reassure myself on the way out of Marilyn’s office. Outside, I stare at the street for a few seconds. My gaze finally lands on my bank branch, and suddenly, I know exactly how to cheer myself up.

  Unfortunately, guilt takes a stroll to the bank with me.

  At the time we had to send the money back to my father’s associates, Chaser never asked questions, and I never volunteered that I’d hung onto quite a few extra thousand dollars.

  In my mind, it’s our emergency fund. I haven’t touched a penny.

  Until today.

  When the bank attendant walks away, leaving me to view my safety deposit box in privacy, I pull out a stack of bills and swiftly count out enough for what I want.

  Outside there’s a pay phone and I dial Audrey’s number from memory. It never occurred to me how I was going to get where I want and lug the items home. “Are you busy today?”

  “Not until later. What’s up?”

  “Would you mind giving me a ride?”

  She’s there in half an hour. “Nice car. When did this happen?” I slide into the shiny red Corvette and snap my seatbelt into place.

  “It was a present.”

  “From Paris guy?”

  She flips the blinker on and pulls into traffic. “Yes. He’s seriously wearing me down.”

  I glance around at the buttery-smooth tan interior. “I don’t blame you. But I’m going to be sad if you run away to Paris.”

  “We might stick around.”

  “We, huh?”

  “God, I can’t believe I said that.” She blows out a frustrated breath. “Where are am I taking you?”

  I recite the directions, and she chuckles.

  “Do you want me to wait in the car?” she asks when we pull up in front of the shop.

  “You don’t have to.”

  Her pager beeps, and she twists around, searching the street. “You see a pay phone?”

  I point one out up ahead, and she shoos me out of the car. “Go on. This is Douglas, I don’t want him to worry.”

  “Oooo…Paris guy has a name?”

  “Yes, he has a name.” She’s smiling too hard to be as exasperated as she wants me to believe.

  The little bells over the door jingle as I enter the store. Julius is behind the counter and lights up when he sees me. “Chaser’s girl! What can I help you with? I don’t suppose you’re here to take lessons?”

  “Nope.” I point to the Gibson Cherry Sunburst guitar Chaser had been so in love with on our last visit. “I’m here for her.”

  He flashes an indulgent smile. “Sweetheart, maybe you didn’t look at the price tag last time.” Even though he’s clearly humoring me, he takes the guitar down and sets it on the counter between us.

  “You take cash, right?”

  A little more interest enters his expression. He flips over the price tag, and I nod at him. “Can you sell me a case for it too?” I glance around the store. “What else does Chaser need to go with it?”

  “Wait here.” He pushes a set of black curtains aside, behind the counter I’d never noticed, and disappears. A few minutes later, he returns with a black case and sets it on the counter. Shiny red velvet lines the inside, and Julius carefully places the guitar inside. “Chaser’s a picky one. Better off letting him come in and choose his own accoutrements. He should have enough to get started.”

  “Thank you.”

  He rings up the guitar and watches me with an amused expression, probably figuring I’m going to be shocked at the total and back out of the deal. Amusement turns to delight when I calmly count out several neat stacks of hundred-dollar bills.

  “You a drug dealer?” he asks.

  “No. I’m an actress.” And a thief.

  “Damn, girlie. Beauty and generosity, Chaser’s a lucky man.”

  “He’s been very good to me, he works hard, and I want him to have it.”

  “He better appreciate you. If not, you come see me and I’ll kick his behind.”

  I chuckle as I lift the heavy case
. No wonder Chaser has such sculpted arms. Lugging his equipment around all the time is an effective workout.

  “Let me help you,” Julius offers.

  “Mallory!” Audrey hustles inside the shop. “What on earth? I figured you were picking up some strings or something.”

  “Nope.” I heft the case in my arms. “Thank you, Julius.”

  It takes us a few seconds, but Audrey and I end up wedging the case behind our seats.

  “Don’t get into an accident. That case will decapitate us,” I warn.

  “Not funny. I can’t believe you bought him a guitar. Doesn’t he already have like ten?”

  “This one is special.”

  “Wow. I mean, even a cheap guitar can’t be that cheap.”

  “I don’t know what one is supposed to cost. But I know he’s had his eye on that one for a while and I want him to have it.”

  She reaches over and pats my leg. “I’m sure he’s going to love it.”

  “I hope so.”

  Chaser’s supposed to be at rehearsals until three, but his bike is parked at the curb in front of our building. “Dammit,” I mutter. “I wanted to surprise him.”

  “Honey, I think he’ll be plenty surprised.” She glances at the building. “You should probably put insurance on it in case someone steals it in this neighborhood.”

  Shoot, I hadn’t thought of that. “The guys keep things so filthy downstairs; I think anyone’s afraid to venture up to our floor. They’re like an extra layer of security.”

  She wrinkles her nose instead of laughing. “Do you want me to ask Douglas if he has any rentals?”

  “Maybe.” I glance at our building again. “I know Chaser likes being near the band, so they can get together to write or play stuff when the mood strikes them.”

  “Well, I’d give you and maybe Chaser a reference but not the rest of them.”

  I lean over and kiss her cheek. “Can’t blame you there.”

  The band must have decided to rehearse here today. The steady grind of one of the songs they’ve been working on for days punctures the atmosphere as soon as I open the door to our building. My lips twitch. Every time I hear it, they’ve added some new element.

  How the hell am I going to sneak by the guys’ apartment? If the door’s closed, I should be fine. If they left the door open, I might be able to pass without them noticing, if they’re really into their session.

  I lug the case up the stairs, careful not to bump it into anything. As I approach the door to their apartment, the music comes to a sudden stop. Loud voices pierce the quiet hallway. I cock my head. Sounds like their usual sharp banter over a lyric or riff. Should keep them occupied for a few minutes.

  I tiptoe past their door and up the stairs as fast as possible, without making too much noise.

  Phew.

  I’m sweating by the time I step inside the apartment. I set the guitar on the couch. It looks so much bigger in our tiny apartment. Where the heck am I going to hide it?

  Figuring it can wait, I switch on the box fan in the window, stopping to bend over and stick my face in the breeze for a few seconds.

  “Now, that’s hot,” Chaser says.

  “What?” I jump and turn, my heart beating frantically. “I thought you were downstairs working with the guys?” My gaze darts to the couch where any second Chaser will notice the big, black guitar case.

  “Yeah, but I heard someone up here and came to check. Why didn’t you stop by?”

  “Practice sounded good, I didn’t want to interrupt you.”

  He crosses the room and fits his hands to my waist, pulling me forward. “You can always interrupt me,” he murmurs before sweeping a kiss over my lips.

  With a sigh, I melt into him and slip my arms around his neck. “I thought you’d be at the rehearsal space?”

  “Nah, we just started jamming and never made it out of here.”

  “Why doesn’t that surprise me?” I lean up and kiss him again.

  “We got stuck, but I’m suddenly feeling very inspired.”

  “I feel that.”

  He scoops me up in his arms and turns toward the bedroom. “Aren’t the guys waiting for you to come back?”

  “Fuck ‘em.”

  Well, I suppose this is one way to keep his attention away from the couch. I draw his head down for a kiss, but he stops moving.

  “What’s that?”

  “Uh.” I struggle to right myself, so he’ll set me down. “Nothing.”

  “Pretty big for nothing.” He lowers me until my feet touch the floor. “You taking up guitar lessons or something?”

  I blow out a frustrated breath. “No, it’s a present for you. I was trying to surprise you though.”

  “You bought me a present?”

  “Why is that so hard to believe?”

  “My birthday isn’t for a few more months.”

  “I wanted you to have it now.”

  He approaches the case slowly, a sly smile forming on his lips. “What’d you get me?” His playful tone and expression erase my disappointment. The surprise might not have gone the way I envisioned, but he clearly doesn’t suspect it’s his dream guitar inside.

  I slide around to the other side and set my hand on the case. “I had a whole scenario in mind where I meet you at the door wearing nothing but stockings and heels while standing behind the case.”

  “Want me to leave and come back?”

  “No, open it.”

  He unsnaps the locks and slowly lifts the lid, revealing the shiny Gibson inside. “Oh fuck me.” He brings his fist to his mouth, biting down on his index finger. A gesture I’ve only witnessed him do once or twice. “Mallory, you didn’t.”

  I step closer, resting my hand on his arm. “I’m so proud of you. I wanted you to have it to play the Shooting Fences shows.”

  “Even if Julius gave you the greatest deal in the world, this cost a fortune. I can’t accept this from you.”

  “Why not?”

  He opens his arms wide and turns in a half-circle. “Look where I have you living. If I had this kind of money, you’d be in an apartment worthy of you.”

  “As long as we’re together, I don’t care where we live. It’s good for you to be close to the guys, so you can play whenever inspiration strikes.” I stare down at the guitar between us. “I want you to understand how much I love you and believe in you every time you play it. It’s my gift to you, and you’ll hurt my feelings if you reject it.”

  “Mallory.” He groans. “Where did you get the money for it?” A note of dread colors his question. Chaser’s too smart not to sense the answer.

  “Do you really want to know?”

  He closes his eyes and shakes his head. The corners of his mouth twitch. “I knew you hung onto more of your father’s money than you let on.”

  I shrug. “Not my fault they can’t count.”

  “What about your father? You think he won’t know how much he’s really missing?”

  That had occurred to me, but if he hasn’t said anything by now, I figure he won’t. I shrug.

  “Sneaky girl.”

  “I have been naughty, haven’t I?”

  “Very.”

  The heat in Chaser’s eyes says I don’t have long to express why buying him the guitar was so important.

  “To me, this is an investment in our future.” I reach down and caress the wood body. “I’ve had ‘Queen of the Road’ in my head since you guys were playing it the other day.”

  Chaser reverently pulls it out and gives the strings an experimental strum. “Yeah?”

  “Maybe this will help you finish it.”

  He leans down and presses a soft kiss against my lips. “Thank you. You don’t know how much this means to me.”

  “Promise me you’ll keep it.”

  “Till the day I die, little dove.”

  The serious sentiment sends a crackle of pain through my heart.

  His brow wrinkles. “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m pret
ty sure,” I bite my lip, afraid to even say the words, “if you die, I won’t be far behind.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Mallory

  As the Shooting Fences shows draw closer, Chaser’s been asking me to join them at rehearsal more often.

  “Are you sure I’m allowed to visit the rehearsal space again?” I ask for probably the tenth time this morning.

  So far, the guys haven’t seemed to mind, but I figure they’ll only tolerate my presence for so long.

  “Fuck yeah. I’m more inspired when you’re there.”

  Just when I think the man can’t make me swoon any harder.

  “Are you sure you won’t be too bored?” he asks.

  “Nope.” Today, I have a script in my bag to keep me busy.

  Although, once the guys get into their session, it’s almost impossible to tear myself away from watching them and concentrate on anything else.

  “You’re bringing it?” I nod to the Gibson case, excited Chaser’s finally going to use the guitar I gave him. He’s only played it at home. Almost as if it’s a newborn he’s worried to introduce to the big, bad world.

  “Yeah, I thought it might help.” He kisses my cheek. “Come on, Alvin’s waiting downstairs.”

  I end up in the back seat wedged between the drums and guitar case, praying no one clips the little car on the way there.

  Garrett’s car is parked by the entrance of the squatty square building, and we find him alone inside the room reserved for Kickstart’s practice sessions.

  “Jacob isn’t here? What the fuck?” Chaser growls, setting his guitar case down. “We don’t have a lot of time to waste.”

  Garrett lifts his head and rubs his hand over his throat. “He’s trying to rest his vocal cords. I’m not sure he’ll be here at all today. He’s shitting bricks that he’s gonna blow ‘em out before the shows.”

  “Fuck.”

  Is that possible? Although I’ve witnessed some of the lengthy vocal warm-ups he performs before a show, I’ve never given Jacob’s contribution a lot of thought. It makes sense, though. His voice is an instrument that needs to be cared for like everyone else’s. Maybe more so since he can’t swap out or buy new vocal cords.

  “I’m here, fuckers.” Jacob slumps into the room. Jacket collar up and sunglasses obscuring most of his face.