The Fame Game (Love and the City Book 3)

by Jillian Quinn

  “Maybe the same trick will work on these movie studios.”

  * * *

  A few hours later, my desk phone rings. I practically jump out of my chair to answer it, my heart hammering in my chest from anticipation. All-day I have received nothing but terrible news, one disappointing phone call after the next. So, when the woman on the other end asks me to hold for Mr. Cavanaugh, I almost squeal with delight.

  “Sure, I’ll hold,” I say with a shaky tone.

  Doug Cavanaugh is the owner of Firehouse Films.

  “Miss Duvall,” a deep voice says. “I hear the role of Hades interests Nico Chase.”

  “Yes, he’s very interested. We read the script and fell in love with the new spin on an old story.”

  “I liked Nico’s earlier films,” he admits. “He’s a talented actor, but I have my reservations about his current reputation.”

  “I understand your concerns,” I assure him. “But Nico is a professional, and he’s still the same actor he was ten years ago.”

  Except now, he’s slightly unhinged and drunk most of the time, but no one’s perfect.

  He breathes into the phone. “I need to see him in person.”

  “Of course.”

  “Tomorrow afternoon,” he says. “Come to the lot at one o’clock.”

  My heart is beating so fast it feels as if it could explode from my chest. “Thank you,” I say, almost out of breath. “We’ll see you then.”

  After we hang up, reality sinks in, and the weight of the world feels as if it’s resting on my shoulders. Nico is throwing a moving out party tonight at his house. There’s no way he won’t be drunk. And now, I will have to convince my movie star client to behave himself.

  Yeah, this should be fun.

  Chapter Eleven

  Nico

  Aaron opens the refrigerator and sets a handful of bottles on the kitchen island. He flips the tops off on the edge of the counter and passes beers around the room. For my last night in the house, I’m partying my ass off with imported beer and top-shelf liquor. If I’m going out, it might as well be with a bang.

  Music cranks through the speakers, a new pop beat that has the girls grinding on each other. A brunette pushes Aaron out of the way to sit on the stool across from me. She raises a beer to her pouty, pink lips, fixing her eyes on me.

  I invited all of my old friends, but Aaron is the only one who still puts up with my shit. We’ve been friends for so many years, I think he stays out of obligation. Most of the women in the house want to fuck me just to say they were with Nico Chase. They don’t care about me. None of these people do. The few celebs who dared to show their faces are here to see what I will do next.

  Hollywood is a weird place. When you make it, you’re on top of the world. But one mistake and you fall flat on your face. Everyone is by your side on your rise to fame. Women will do unspeakable things to get close to you, and men will sell their souls to be in your inner circle. I’m the last man standing out of the actors from my circles.

  Aaron slides his arm along the back of my neck. His cold beer touches my skin, and a chill rolls down my arm. “How does your last night of freedom feel?”

  I narrow my eyes at him. “I’ve never felt freer.”

  “You know what I mean. Claire doesn’t mind if you stay with us for a few days as long as you don’t drink. She’s worried about the kids seeing Uncle Nico wasted again.”

  “That was one time,” I snap. “And it was an accident.”

  “You always have an excuse,” he counters.

  “Is this your way of drying me out? Because I’m not going to fucking rehab. I don’t need it.”

  He raises his eyebrows. “Really? Because from where I’m sitting, it sure looks like you could use some help, but you’re too stubborn to take it.”

  “I’m an emotional drinker,” I shoot back. “I can stop whenever I want.”

  “Then, do it.” He fists the bottom of my beer, and I pull it away from him. “That’s what I thought.”

  “This is my last night,” I promise.

  He nods in acknowledgment.

  “I only need a few days to a week to sort this shit out.”

  “Did your agent find you a job yet?”

  “She’s working on it.”

  I glance at the clock on the wall above the stove. Where the hell is Willow? She said she was coming tonight. When I remove my cell phone from my pocket, I scroll through a bunch of text messages and miss calls. None of them are from Willow.

  A brunette in a black bandage dress attaches herself to my arm. I shake her off and walk into the living room, plopping down on the sectional couch next to Carrie Le Blanc. She’s a singer-songwriter and one of my few friends in this business.

  Most of my so-called friends disappeared after Sony released me from my contract. Another wave followed suit after TMZ exposed one of my highlight reels of drunkenness, causing me to lose all of my endorsements.

  Carrie pats my forearm and smiles, her lips full and smothered in pink gloss. “I was wondering where you got off to.”

  I raise my beer and tip the bottle to my lips.

  “I have to leave soon,” she says.

  I force a grin, watching the girls dance with each other in front of me. Like Aaron, Carrie is also here out of obligation. They’re good friends, and I love them for supporting me through the worst time of my life. But I hate the feeling stirring in the pit of my stomach. If I don’t find a job soon, will I have any friends? Will I have to move back home with my tail tucked between my legs?

  I polish off my beer, and Aaron, the best wingman ever, hands me another bottle. I haven’t gone without a drink all night.

  The room is spinning nicely, my mind drifting to a better place, one where I’m not losing everything. I need this distraction. Maybe if I concentrate hard enough, I’ll wake up from this horrible nightmare. Resting my head back against the cushion, I take a swig of my beer.

  When I look up, a woman is blocking my view of the girls dancing on the table. Her dark hair falls down her shoulders, stopping just above her nice rack. A tight red dress hugs her curvy body, and I suddenly get the urge to touch her… until I get a better look at her face.

  “Hey,” Willow says.

  I stare at her, more like through her.

  She waves her hand. “You okay, Nico? You don’t look so hot.”

  I nod, one eye open.

  “We started drinking after lunch,” Aaron says.

  “You said it was okay to bring a friend,” Willow says, somewhat nervously. She tips her head toward the girl on her right. “You remember Ash?”

  I look at the curvy girl who works for Vinnie. She has a big ass and nice tits I may have fantasized about once or twice. It’s hard not to notice Ash. Since she started working at Brenton- Lake, I have hit on her dozens, and she ignored my advances every time. She kept showing up at my house with boxes of scripts and the Date Crashers guy on her arm.

  “Welcome, ladies.” I slur my words.

  I tap the cushion next to me, and Willow makes herself comfortable, though she looks on edge.

  “Do I know you?” Carrie peeks up at Ash. “You look familiar.”

  “I’m Dylan’s girlfriend,” Ash says.

  Carrie makes a face like she’s thinking over the name. “Oh, right? Date Crashers. I’m obsessed with his app. Your man is a genius.”

  Ash taps me on the shoulder. “Make some room.”

  I slide to my right, and Willow moves along with me, our thighs inches apart. Her mouth widens, and then she lowers her head. Tugging on the end of her dress that leaves little to my dirty mind, she glances at the crowded living room.

  Ash sits next to Carrie, talking to her as if they are old friends. Because of Carrie’s videos and Instagram stories, Date Crashers blew up overnight. They talk about Dylan Banks and his anti-dating app, while I stare at Willow, watching her as she watches other people.

  “What are you drinking?” I ask her.

  She
turns her head until her eyes meet mine. “Water.”

  I snort with laughter. “I’m fresh out.”

  I wave my hand to get Aaron’s attention, motioning him to slide a few beers down the table in front of us. Willow takes the beer from my hand, and our fingers touch.

  “How much did you drink?” Willow asks after she takes a sip from her beer.

  “A shit-ton,” I mutter.

  She sucks in a deep breath and lets it out. “I need to talk to you.”

  “So talk.”

  “Can we go somewhere more private?”

  I trace my finger down the length of her bare arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps. “You look hot in this dress,” I say as I play with the strap.

  She scowls. “Nico, I’m your agent. And I need to talk to you. It’s important.”

  “We can go upstairs.”

  She presses her lips together, smearing her red lipstick. “Lead the way.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Willow

  Nico Chase is driving me insane. Ash warned me about his drinking. He lied right to my face when he signed the contract. Maybe I should have listened when she issued the warning. We strolled into the kitchen to find girls snorting lines of coke off the counter. Beer bottles and plastic cups littered the space. In the living room, we had to watch a bunch of topless girls dance on the coffee table in front of Nico and his friends.

  Nico staggers through the house. When we reach the stairs, I slide my arm behind his back and help him upstairs. I drag him down the hall, his massive body weighing down on me, and he leads me toward the master bedroom. The second floor has more doors than I can count.

  He’s well over two hundred pounds of solid muscle, hanging on me like a warm, heavy blanket. Nico is sweating through his shirt. He drank way too much alcohol.

  I steer him toward the large, four-poster bed, and Nico nestles his face against my neck. Nico sinks to the mattress, taking me down with him. His large, muscular body partially covers mine, making it near impossible to get out from under him. He sensually runs his hand down my arm.

  Even in his drunken state, he’s well aware of the effect he has on me. A man with his experience knows what women want. He can sense my desire. Everywhere our skin meets, a wave of heat spreads down my arms and legs, his carefully placed touches making my toes curl.

  “I need to talk to you, Nico.”

  He tugs at my clothes. “And here I thought ‘We need to talk’ was code for fuck.”

  “Nico,” I warn.

  “I know.” He swats his hand. “You’re my agent. Whatever.” He rolls his head to the side. “Chill. I won’t hit on you again.”

  I suck in a deep breath. “Thank you. I would appreciate that.”

  He chuckles. “You don’t have to be so uptight.”

  Shocked by his words, I gasp.

  “What? It’s true. When was the last time you had fun… or got laid?”

  It’s sad how long I have to think about this. “I don’t know. That’s not important. Anyway, I have news.”

  He props himself up on his elbow, his gaze fixed on me. “You got me a movie?”

  “I got you a meeting,” I say, unable to contain my excitement.

  “With whom?”

  “Firehouse Films.”

  “Which movie?”

  “War of the Gods. It’s about demigods who have to fight their godly parents, set in a fictional fantasy world based on Ancient Rome.”

  “I liked that script,” he admits. “So, what’s the part?”

  “You would play Hades.”

  He pinches the bridge of his nose between his fingers and sighs. “I was hoping to play Zeus.”

  “They already cast Zane Anders as Zeus.” A beat passes before I continue, “This is just a meeting. I don’t want you to get your hopes up.”

  He rolls onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. “How did I end up here?”

  “You walked. But not well, I might add.”

  “No.” Nico groans. “I mean, how did I get to this place in my career? I was pulling in fifteen million dollars for a movie, and now…” He closes his eyes and shakes his head.

  “You will get past this, Nico.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “Because I believe in you.”

  We share a moment where I wonder if I said too much. Nico presses his palm to my cheek. I hold his gaze for a second before he drops his hand and looks away from me. After a while, Nico gives me a closed-mouth smile and brushes my hair behind my ear. The movement is way too sensual.

  A few minutes later, he’s snoring in my ear, with his hand rested on my stomach. What do I do? I lift his hand and set it on the bed between us. He rolls onto his side, falling into an even deeper sleep.

  We have a meeting with a studio, and I have to make sure he gets there on time. So, I guess I’m sleeping over.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Nico

  When I wake up, my head is throbbing. It feels like someone is crushing my skull with their car. I’m ashamed that this is becoming a regular part of my morning routine. As usual, a woman in a black dress is lying next to me in bed. She’s curled up on her side, her firm ass pressed against me.

  I have to stop drinking. It was just one more, and by the fifteenth beer, I’d lost count.

  I tap the woman next to me on the shoulder. She shakes me off of her as she gets comfortable.

  “I’m not ready,” she whispers.

  What is she talking about?

  Wait, why do I recognize her voice? No… It can’t be Willow. I sit up, just enough to lean over to get a good look at her face. Shit, what is she doing in my bed? I look down at my rumpled clothes. I’m still wearing the same jeans and tee. And I slept in my sneakers. Okay, so we didn’t have sex. But what happened?

  I lean against the headboard and stare down at her, trying to figure out what to do. My last agent left me because of my bullshit. I need Willow. I hope for both of our sakes I did nothing stupid last night.

  I kick my shoes onto the floor and folding my legs into my chest. “Time to get up.”

  She rolls over to face me, her eyes closed. “Mmm…” She looks cute when she’s sleeping, so peaceful and happy.

  I shake her shoulder. “Get up, sleepyhead.”

  Willow rolls onto her back, looking over at me with one eye open. She groans and then blinks a few times before she sits up.

  She rubs her eyes and yawns. “What’s going on?”

  “You tell me. I woke up with you in my bed.”

  “Nothing happened.”

  “How did we end up here?”

  “Do you remember anything from last night?”

  I shake my head.

  She sighs. “Look, we need to talk.”

  “Those are the last words any man wants to hear in the morning.”

  Willow brushes her hair behind her ears and chuckles. “That’s why we came upstairs. I wanted to tell you about the meeting with Firehouse Films, but you fell asleep.”

  I narrow my eyes, thinking over last night. Glimpses flash into my mind. “It’s for War of the Gods, right?”

  “Yeah. The studio is expecting us at one o’clock.”

  Panicked, I glance over at the clock on my bedside table and slide off the bed like it’s on fire. “Well, what are you doing? Get ready.”

  She crawls across my bed, on her knees in front of me. “Calm down, Nico. We have plenty of time.”

  “I know, but…” I tug at the end of my shirt and groan. “I look like shit. I smell like a brewery.”

  She slips her fingers between mine, surprising me by the sudden contact. “Let me help you. I will get you through this. Remember, you got this. And I got you, okay?”

  There’s so much power behind her words that a tremor rocks through my body. Everywhere our skin meets sends a volt of electricity up my arms.

  “Take a shower,” she says with laughter in her tone. “You stink.”

  My hands stick to the steering w
heel as I drive onto the Firehouse Films lot. It’s been awhile since my last meeting with a studio head. No one wants to work with the bad boy of Hollywood, though I’m not as bad as the picture they paint in the media. I’ll admit the TMZ videos showed me at my lowest point. But since then, I have stayed out of the spotlight.

  “No matter what happens,” Willow says. “This is just the first of many meetings. If you don’t get this role, I have hundreds of scripts to read.” I can feel her eyes on me as she moves her arm to the console between us. “I will find you a job even if it kills me.”

  “How are you so confident?”

  “Because I know you can turn your life around. You were one of the highest-paid actors in Hollywood, and you can do it again.”

  “You don’t even know me,” I challenge. “How do you know I won’t disappoint you like I did Vinnie?”

  She shrugs against the leather seat. “That’s why they call it a leap of faith.”

  “You’re putting your faith in the wrong person,” I assure her.

  “I tied your future to mine when you signed the contract.”

  She points to the left. “Over there. His office in building K.”

  I turn toward the gray one-story building with a giant K scrawled on the side in white paint. “What did you mean, you tied your future to mine?”

  She bites the inside of her cheek and turns her head to stare out the window. “I told Burke he could fire me if I’m not successful.”

  “Why would you do that?”

  “Because I believe in you. And if I can’t take a once successful star and turn his career around, what could I do for a new actor?”

  “You’re crazy, woman.” I shake my head as I park in front of the building. “You shouldn’t have done that.”

  She turns to look at me. “Why not?”

  “No offense, but if Vinnie couldn’t get me a job, what chance do you have?”

  “I got you this meeting,” she points out. “Vinnie couldn’t even get you that, not even with all of his connections.”