“Yeah, you should have, but it’s done. I think we’re rid of all the dead weight your last management team had you saddled with before me. Now, we’ll find you a new housekeeper.”
“I can look after myself.”
He snorted. “Right.”
I glared at him, but he was probably correct. I was rather hopeless when it came to the house or keeping myself on track. And the last time I had tried to fire someone, they had sold their story to the tabloids, and it wasn’t pretty. After that, I agreed to let Everett handle staffing issues.
“I’m interviewing the next housekeeper,” I informed him.
Everett snorted. “Like you’d know what to ask them?”
I glared at him. “I’d ask if they can make cupcakes. What kind of housekeeper can’t bake?” That had always pissed me off about Marie. My own mum was brilliant in the kitchen and I liked that sort of stuff. I missed it, living here in LA.
“They need to be able to do more than bake, Liam. They need to be organized, trustworthy, run your house, and help keep you organized. We need someone with some experience.”
“I want to like them this time.”
He studied me for a minute. “I think I know someone who’d be perfect.”
“Who?”
“You don’t know her.”
“You do?”
He nodded and stood, walking to the window. He looked outside for a minute, not saying anything. “My sister, Shelby, is in a bit of a jam.”
“Oh?”
“Her fucking, no-good husband dumped her. And took all their savings and disappeared.”
“What a wanker.”
“Yeah.” He sighed. “She lost her job a month ago—the company she worked for did some downsizing, and they let a bunch of the executives and PAs go. Now the asshole pulls this shit.” He shook his head. “I never liked him.”
“I know. I think you referred to him as ‘the jackass’ most of the time.”
Everett nodded. “Shelby is strong and independent, and I only found out all this when she finally called me. He took everything of value and left her with nothing. He surprised her with a spa day, and when she got home, everything was gone. The apartment cleared out, their bank accounts drained. It was the last straw. She’s been struggling, trying to figure this out on her own, but it was simply too much for her. The bastard ran up all their credit cards, was behind on the rent, and then disappeared.”
“Good thing she called you.”
“I know it took a lot for her to make that call. But I’m glad she did. With her husband gone and no job, I thought a new start would help her. She looked after me growing up. Now it’s my turn to repay the favor.”
I nodded in sympathy. “Crap, Everett—that’s awful. What a stupid arse he must be. Good thing she has you for a brother.” Understanding dawned. “You want me to hire her?”
He sat back down in the chair. “She’s a hard worker, Liam, and a hell of a great person. She’s dealt with being a PA for years, so she would know how to keep you organized. She needs a place to live and a job. You need a housekeeper and someone here while you’re away filming, to look after the place.”
I hesitated.
“She’d be a damn sight better than Marie. And she isn’t remotely scary.”
That was a plus.
“At least meet her.” He encouraged. “I’m asking as a favor. If you don’t get on, no pressure.”
Everett rarely asked me for anything. Usually it was me asking the favors.
“Can she cook?”
“Like a dream. Always has.”
“My favorite thing is turkey sandwiches. I love turkey. And cupcakes. I love those, too.”
“I know that, Liam. I introduced you to both of those things. What does that have to do with Shelby?”
“I want to meet her, and I want her to make me a turkey sandwich and some cupcakes.”
Everett shook his head. “Some interview.”
I thought it was a bloody brilliant idea.
“If I like her and her cupcakes are good, the job is hers.”
“Thank you, Liam. I’ll let her know.”
“Anything else I should know about her?”
He grinned. “Just don’t call her Beaker.”
I met Shelby two days later. She wasn’t what I expected. Aside from the dark hair and blue eyes, she and Everett were polar opposites. He was tall, broad-shouldered, spoke loudly, and exuded confidence.
Shelby was short, tiny, her voice soft and pleasant, and she seemed quite shy. Her blue eyes were sad, filled with confusion and lingering hurt, but she smiled and shook my hand when Everett introduced us. I was surprised to find her last name the same as Everett’s, but she explained she had never taken her ex’s surname.
“Thank God for that,” Everett muttered as he left us alone.
As we talked, I realized she was intelligent and kind. There was an aura of gentleness around her that drew me to her easily. I knew I would be able to trust her as much as I trusted her brother. I had already decided to offer her the job before she opened the basket she had brought with her and presented me with a feast.
A turkey sandwich. Unlike the deli-type offerings Marie would put in front of me, there was no processed fake meat—it was made with real turkey. The sandwich was so big, I could barely get my hands around it. There was even stuffing in it, just the way I liked it. She also handed me a carton of milk, and once I finished exclaiming over the sandwich, offered me a container of the best cupcakes I had ever tasted.
I grinned at her, my mouth full.
“Can I ask you a question?”
“This is an interview,” she retorted dryly.
“Will you bake me these cupcakes again?”
“Yes.”
“Will you make me turkey sandwiches every week? More, if I want?”
“Yes.”
“Can you make biscuits?”
She furrowed her brow. “Like savory biscuits?”
“No, you know, cookies. Chocolate chip ones. Or peanut butter. Yeah, peanut butter ones. Can you make those?”
She laughed. “Yes, I can.”
“Do you do laundry?”
“Yes.”
“Can you buy me some new shorts?”
“Shorts?” she questioned.
“Underpants,” I clarified. “Marie—she was pawing at my stuff. I don’t know which ones she touched, so I threw them all out.”
She arched her eyebrow. “So, right now—”
“I’m commando. Yes.”
Her amusement was loud and rich. I grinned just hearing it as I stuffed another cupcake in my gob. They were amazing.
“Yes, I can get you new underwear.”
“Shorts.”
“You’re in America, Britboy. You wear shorts on the beach. We call them underwear.”
I grinned at her. I liked her—a lot.
She eyed me speculatively. “After Everett told me what happened, I was looking around the web, and I saw a few other posts. She wasn’t only selling your underwear, just so you know.”
I looked down at my T-shirt and grimaced. “Bloody hell. I thought the dresser drawer seemed empty.” I pulled at the material. “I wonder what was wrong with this one?”
“It’s a bit thin. I’m sure she went for the best.”
“You mean she probably touched it?”
Shelby’s smile was gleeful. “Oh, I’m sure she did. Many times.”
“I feel dirty. Maybe you could also throw them out and get me new ones.”
“Bleach works well too.” She grinned mischievously. “Gets rid of Marie cooties.”
I chuckled. “I’ll leave it to your discretion.”
“I think I can handle that.”
I nodded as I shoved in another cupcake. I was subtle about it, and I was sure she hadn’t noticed. I was also sure there was something else I should ask.
“Do you know how to clean a house?” I asked as cupcake crumbs blew out of my mouth. I looked at my la
p. Maybe not as subtle as I thought.
Now she rolled her eyes. “Yes.”
“Then it’s all covered.” I sat back in triumph.
Who said this would be hard?
I’d asked all the pertinent questions. Stupid Everett—what a git. “You’re hired.”
She smiled, even though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “You’re easy.”
“Tell that to your brother. He thinks I’m a pain in the arse.” I winked at her. “I think, Shelby, this is the start of a beautiful friendship.”
“I hope so, Mr. Wright.”
“Liam.”
She smiled. “Liam.”
Liam
Present day
A plate appeared before me, two large sandwiches stacked on it, along with some pickles. Shelby always added some pickles, and now I was addicted to them with my sandwiches. Beside it, Shelby placed a large glass of milk and a plate of cupcakes, as well as the bottle of whiskey and another glass. Everything I needed. I grinned at the meal, already anticipating how good it would be.
“I’m going to bed now. Leave the dishes on the counter. Don’t stay up all night, and don’t drink too much whiskey. You know you can’t handle it.”
Smiling, I reached for a sandwich. She could sleep now, because I was back in the house. I was glad I had come home early. I didn’t like to think of her not sleeping. “I’ll eat and have the whiskey to relax. Then I’ll go to bed. Ta, Beaker.”
Shelby cuffed the back of my head. “Don’t call me that, Oscar.” Then she grinned and dropped a kiss on my head. “Night, Liam.”
“Night, Shelby.”
I took a huge bite of my sandwich, as she left the room to go to her suite on the top floor.
Yeah, it was good to be home.
I shuffled into the kitchen, one hand buried in my hair, the other one clutched against my stomach. I shouldn’t have knocked back so much whiskey last night after Shelby went to bed.
I felt rather wonky.
I needed to find Shelby. She’d do something and make me feel better. She always knew how to make me feel better.
Instead, I found her brother sitting at my table, drinking coffee and chuckling over something on his laptop. I stifled a groan. I couldn’t handle Everett at the moment.
Silently, I slid my feet back, trying to exit the room before he spotted me, but to no avail.
“Nice try, Liam. Get your sorry ass in here.”
I let the groan escape this time and moved over to the table, sitting down heavily. “Where’s Shelby?” I mumbled, my voice thick and scratchy.
“My sister is out doing errands. She left you something on the counter.”
Anxiously, I walked over and sighed in relief at the Alka-Seltzer and Tylenol waiting for me. I mixed the tablets with water, downed them, then swallowed the painkillers. I poured a cup of coffee and returned to the table.
“Why are you here?”
Everett guffawed—a bit too loudly for my liking. “Did you not think I’d know what happened yesterday, Liam?”
I laid my head on the table. “How?” I knew Shelby wouldn’t rat me out. She hid all sorts of shit I pulled from her brother.
“The magazine called, you idiot. And the studio let me know you went AWOL.” He lifted his eyebrow. “Without notice or security. Not a wise move, given your history.”
“Right.” Of course those bastards would tattle to Everett.
“I handled it.”
At his grunt, I cracked open an eye. “She was a bloody idiot, Ev. The whole thing was dodgy. We were at sixes and sevens right from the start. Really, I had no choice. My integrity was at stake.”
He glared at me, and I grinned. I loved confusing him with my “English-speak,” as he called it, so at times, I laid it on thick. He was never totally sure what I was saying. He snorted and took a deep drink of his coffee.
“Sure, Liam. I’ll be sure to tell the studio, who set up these interviews, that piece of information.” He fixed me with a stern glance. “They already called. You have to make this up. That’s three of their interviews you walked out on.”
I nodded in defeat. “How?”
“A charity benefit. You will attend. You will be charming. And you will stay for the whole thing and sign autographs until your hand drops off.” He glared at me. “And you won’t complain once.”
Instantly, my stomach clenched with nerves. “Did you call Carly? Is she available?”
Everett nodded. “Yes. And Mark. I’ll be there as well.”
I let out a deep breath. “Okay.”
Everett went back to typing, and I leaned my head back, the medicine Shelby left for me beginning to work.
She always knew what I needed. So did Everett. I was lucky to have them.
Unlike my old management team, Everett kept things simple. He ran my career and provided me with his presence as added security most of the time, along with Mark. Nobody got near me with those two men flanking me. He used Cassidy Hawkins for PR work, though he handled most of it himself. Lily Simons was my stylist, something Ev and Cassidy had insisted on when they came on board. Apparently, my choice of torn T-shirts and jeans wasn’t the best look most of the time. Ev had been my manager now for about eighteen months, and I couldn’t be happier. My old manager had put so many people on the payroll, it was ridiculous, and we had argued over it constantly. He’d felt the more people I had around me, the higher my profile. The only thing I found higher was the cost. And my blood pressure. I didn’t like all the people running errands, hanging around the house, and doing stupid things for me. Or more often than not, as I discovered, for my ex-manager.
When I decided to make a change, it was Everett Carter I turned to. We had gotten to be friends, and I liked him. I liked his style of no bullshit and simplicity. Everett stepped in, cleaned house, and made my life easier—better. He discussed everything with me and made sure I knew what was happening at all times. Anything he didn’t think I should be bothered with, he handled, and I trusted him enough to know it was for the best. Hiring him had been the best professional decision I had ever made.
Until I hired Shelby.
She was way more than a housekeeper to me, though. Yes, she kept the house in order. But more importantly, she kept me in order. Living under the same roof for the past six months, we’d become close, and I would consider her my best friend. She was certainly my confidant and without a doubt, knew me better than anyone else—even her brother. She knew my moods, my likes and dislikes, and she catered to them. She also never hesitated to put me in my place when needed. Her gentle teasing and laughter often drew me out of a bad mood, and her no-nonsense approach to the life I led was refreshing. It was her opinion I listened to regarding scripts, her thoughts and counsel I sought when making a decision. And it was her comfort I needed when having a difficult time. With my family still back in England, she and Everett had become my adopted family here, and I would be lost without either of them.
I heard the sound of the door opening from the garage, and I smiled. Shelby was home. I knew if I asked, she’d make me something to eat. I needed something greasy and filling to help chase off the last of the whiskey hangover.
I didn’t move from the chair or open my eyes when she came into the room, yet I knew exactly where she was at any given second.
“Well, look who is in the land of the living.”
Everett snorted. “I’m not sure you’d call him alive yet.”
I sighed as I felt Shelby’s hand run gently through my hair. “Oscar, Oscar, Oscar…why do you insist on drinking? You know you can’t handle liquor well.”
I frowned at her and peered through one eye. “I’m British, Shelby. We are known for how well we handle our drink. Legendary.”
She snickered, her fingers tenderly massaging my aching head. “Liam, the British are also known for their suave, smooth leading men. But let’s face it, you really don’t live up to either category, do you?”
I huffed in annoyance. She was right. N
o matter how much effort the studio and Lily put into my appearance, I would never be a legendary leading man. I was far too immature. And I was a cheap drunk.
“Put a sock in it, woman. I’m in no mood for your crap.”
“How many whiskeys did you have?”
I flicked my hand dismissively. “A bunch.”
Shelby moved away and I heard her open the cabinet. I watched from under my eyelashes as she held up the bottle, which wasn’t missing much of the golden liquid inside. “Two, maybe three, Liam? Light ones at that, no doubt. Hardly enough to put most Brits in this shape the next day. Tsk, tsk. You are letting your people down.”
“Piss off. I was shattered from being on the job all day—days, in fact—so it hit me hard. And, I’m a bloody good actor.”
She chuckled as she started unloading her bags. “I never said you weren’t good, Oscar. I said you weren’t smooth. Or suave.”
“What are you on about? Why don’t you call my leading ladies and get their opinion on that?”
“Good idea. Shall I start with Carly? Or maybe Gillian?”
Everett guffawed beside me, and I gave up. Both those women, even though we were friends, knew I was a wanker. Great to work with, but not dependable.
“Fine. Sod off, both of you. Maybe I’m not smooth, and maybe I can’t handle my liquor. But I’m cuter than you, Ev.” I pointed at Shelby. “And I’m way taller than you.” Then I sniffed haughtily. “And the birds dig my accent.”
Shelby hummed. “I’ll give you that, Britboy.”
“Shelby, I’m hungry.”
“What do you want to eat?”
I sighed with want. “I’d give you fifty grand if you had a double-double In-N-Out burger over there. A hundred grand if there was a chocolate shake and fries to go with it.”
“Is that a fact?”
“’Tis.”
“Pay up.”
The thump of a bag in front of me had me opening my eyes, and I grinned widely. She knew me well.
“Brilliant.”
I tore into the bag, shoving fries in my gob as I jammed the straw into the milkshake, desperate for a taste of the cold, creamy liquid.
Changing Roles Page 2
