I had been assigned a personal stylist, ever since I landed the new role on the sitcom. I didn’t particularly like the idea of someone dressing me on a regular basis, but I was trying to persuade myself to appreciate all the things that my newfound fame had to offer.
So, I had put on the tight red dress, the pearls at my neck and the super high black stilettos that my stylist had picked out for me for that evening. She was gone now, as was my personal makeup artist and I returned to the dressing room on a high. Still reeling from the success of the interview.
When I shut the door behind me, I could hear the live audience clapping. It was still a crazy thought to accept that these people were falling in love with me. I just couldn’t wrap my brain around it.
Until a few weeks ago, I was nothing more than a faintly familiar face on television. I’d bagged a couple of roles on soaps and a few smaller roles on TV movies in the past few years. None of those roles had been even close to being as big as the one I had now.
The sitcom, Failing at Love, had its whole series out on popular streaming service. Maybe the show would have gone unnoticed if it was aired on any other cable network, but with the streaming service quickly becoming one of the most popular ways for people to watch their shows in the country now; Failing at Love received rave reviews. Within weeks I had already become a household name before I even knew what hit me.
I had always wanted to be an actress. Ever since I was four years old, I had dreamt of being a well-known and well-loved face on TV. Acting in films, on the big screen hadn’t ever been my end objective. I had always believed that being a daily presence in people’s lives on TV was more personal. That I would be better appreciated by an audience that way. Now, at the age of twenty-five, I had my big break, and all my Hollywood dreams were coming true.
It had definitely been a good decision to move to LA.
The thought made my fingers twitch, as I sat in front of the lit mirror in the dressing room. I was working away carefully at taking off my makeup. The red lipstick came off, as did the thick layers of mascara from my eyelashes and the foundation from my face. I didn’t want to think about New York and the life I had left behind there. I’d had a good night, just like every other night these past few weeks. Thinking about New York would only make me anxious, and that was the last thing I wanted right now.
I stared at myself in the mirror, my face was makeup free and yet there was a glow on my skin, my blue eyes were wide and bright. A smile creased the sides of my mouth, and I knew I was content. I was happy with the direction my life was taking.
I undid the sleek bun that the makeup artist had tied for me earlier, and my long blond straight hair came tumbling down. I touched the strands with my fingers; they were slippery smooth, and I thanked myself for remembering my grandmother’s advice and brushing my hair a hundred times every night when I was growing up.
Standing up from the chair, I started changing out of the dress into the clothes I had arrived at the studio in. A pair of skinny jeans and a silk blouse. That smile was still on my face. I couldn’t stop being excited about the rest of my life. This sitcom was only the beginning, very soon I’d get more offers and then some more. All I had to do now was work hard and show my fans some love. I could do that. I was already doing that. I was trying to attend as many talk shows as I could before the next season was released.
Apart from being giddy with excitement, I was also tired. I didn’t want to admit it but the last few weeks had been a rollercoaster ride; leaving me exhausted now. I hadn’t had a moment to myself; I hadn’t had a chance to breathe. Before I got ready to leave the studio, I skimmed through my calendar on my phone. I had the night off on Saturday. My face lit up at the thought that maybe finally I would be able to spend some time with my girls, out of the public eye.
Popping my phone back into my bag, I picked up my car keys and was ready to go.
It was at that moment when the feeling returned. That familiar dark feeling in the pit of my stomach. I felt like I was being watched. My limbs froze, and I stood stock still at the back door of the dressing room. It was the door I had come in through earlier and the door that would lead me out into the parking lot. All these weeks, I had a chauffeur driving me around, but tonight, desperately craving some privacy, I had asked him to take a break, and I had driven myself to the studio.
Now, I was beginning to regret it.
Who could be watching me? I looked around the silent dressing room. The windows and the doors were shut, there were no cameras around. I was the only person here and yet, I felt like there was someone else here with me.
A deep pit formed in my stomach when I realized it was Ryan I was thinking of. For the past five years, since I left New York and left him, I had always been a little paranoid. There would be days when I’d go without once thinking of him and then suddenly, out of the blue, I’d be hit by this nauseous feeling that he was here with me.
It was a ridiculous thought, I knew that. But he had gotten so deep under my skin that I knew I would always be afraid of him. Even though I hadn’t been in touch with him, and I hadn’t seen him in five years, he was always somehow in the back of my mind. I hated how he affected me the way he did.
Sucking in my gut and stabilizing my breathing, I opened the door again and stepped out. I refused to let him make me afraid. The daylight was slowly fading behind the clouds. The parking lot was full of parked cars because the show was taped on a busy studio lot. However, there was nobody there.
I weaved around the cars as I made my way towards mine. I hadn’t changed out of the stilettos and the sound of the heels clicking against the concrete was the only sound around me. I hurried towards my car and on the way, as I clutched, keys in my fingers.
The longer I spent in the parking lot, in the growing darkness, by myself, the more anxious I got. The faster my heart was beating.
At my car door, I thought I heard footsteps behind me. The keys fell from my hand on the ground, and I stifled a shriek and crouched down on the ground to pick it up as quickly as I could. My breath was caught in my throat. The sound of footsteps echoed near me, and I was convinced that someone was running up behind me and I was too frightened to turn and look.
I thrust the key into the door and finally gathered the courage to look. There was nobody there. I had imagined the whole thing. The footsteps. The convincing sensation that there was another human presence in the parking lot. It was all in my head.
Breathing heavy sighs of relief, I opened the car door and sat down. The key was in the ignition now. I checked all the mirrors in the car to make sure there was nobody in the car, and I locked the doors. I was well and truly alone. I put my head into my hands. I felt like I was beginning to go mad. What had gotten into me? When was I going to stop being so afraid?
I turned the music on loud on the radio, just to make me feel like I wasn’t so alone and I started the car. Things had been going so well tonight until I started thinking of New York and Ryan.
Chapter 3
Thorn
Dirty Harry’s was the biker bar that The Grim Reapers owned, and where the members met up. Enzo had set the tradition of conducting Church in the back office, and that was where I was headed the next morning.
The boys had got the message I’d sent out early that morning, and when I entered the office; I saw that they were all already assembled there. Brooks was now the new VP, taking over from me. Jamison was our Sergeant in Arms, Topher was Treasurer and Beckett was Road Captain. The core team of the club had all gathered in one room, and there was a distinct absence of the others. Others who would have been present on any other day, before we were attacked.
The men grew silent when they saw me enter. This was the first Church to be called in ten days-which meant that it was also the first Church to be called by me, as President.
“We should sit down,” I grumbled as my first words. The men looked at each other, brothers in arms who trusted each other and one by one, we each took a cha
ir at the table. I knew what was going through their heads, the same thoughts that were going through mine. That it was strange to have Enzo and the others absent today.
Brooks ran a hand through his hair and shook his head. I knew he had something to say.
“This is fucking crazy, man. Enzo and our brothers are in prison, and we’re sitting here on leather chairs,” he growled. I clenched my jaw and could feel my hands fisting up.
“I spoke to him,” I said, and an immediate chatter rang up in the group. They all had questions. None of them had spoken to Enzo or the others in the past three days, and they all wanted to know what was going on.
“Did you tell him we’re going to go get him?”
“How is he holding up?”
“Does he need protection?”
“Fuck!”
“We’ll fuck them up!”
The words were being thrown around in the room. Everyone was talking at once, and I could see that they were all riled up. I raised a hand up in the air to silence them, and just like that, there was peace in the room again.
“He’s okay. He sounded okay. They’re being transferred to County prison today, and he said that they’ve figured out protection on the inside. He doesn’t need our help,” I said, and Jamison banged his fist on the table.
“Fuck that, man. We’ll have to raid the prison or something to get them out. Let’s do it,” he barked.
“Give us the order!” Beckett added, and I shook my head.
“That is the exact opposite of what Enzo wants us to do right now,” I said, trying to copy the same calmness that Enzo had displayed over the phone.
“What the fuck are you talking about, brother?” Brooks growled, and I looked him square in the eye. For Enzo to convince me that we needed to take a step back, was an easy task. For me to convince this blood-thirsty bunch to do the same; was going to be a whole different story.
“I’m talking about laying low. We’ve taken a huge hit. We can’t afford to go on the attack right now. It could completely destroy the club. If we lost any more of our men; if any more of us got arrested, there would be nothing left of The Grim Reapers,” I growled back. We were already a smaller club that most of them in the area. Another blow and there would be nothing left.
I could see the rage bubbling up in each of them. They were all feeling what I had felt when I spoke to Enzo. A desperate urge to hit out. An animalistic need for vengeance. I could see Topher’s mouth quivering, as he tried to stop himself from erupting.
“We need to deflect attention. Stay away from the weapons,” I reiterated.
“But what about our suppliers and buyers? We’re going to fucking lose business!” Topher spat, and I drummed my fingers on the table.
“I’ll take care of that. I’ll speak to them. We can’t take any more chances right now. The ATF is dying to take us all down. We’d be putting the whole club at risk, as well as the guys who are in prison already,” I replied.
The men were silent now. They were confused because I was ordering them to go against their first instinct of attack.
“So, lay low how? What the fuck are we going to do?” Beckett asked, and I drew in a deep breath before I spoke again.
“We have to think of some kind of legit business to get ourselves involved in,” I said. “Make the ATF bored with us, so they move on to something else.” This wasn’t something that Enzo had told me, but it was the best idea I could come up with. I knew that these men needed to vent, they needed something to occupy themselves with while we waited for Enzo’s next command.
“A legit business? Like fucking what?” Brooks barked again, and I shrugged my shoulders.
“This is why I’m talking to you guys. We need to figure out an idea, something to keep us clean-at least for a while,” I replied, and they exchanged looks again. I could see that it would take them a while for the news to sink in. Until then, it would have to be me doing all the thinking.
“Any ideas?” I urged them, but they remained silent; just staring at me blankly like I had just asked them to shoot each other.
I stood up from my chair with a jerk. The best thing to do right now would be to leave the idea hanging, allow it to sink in so they could all accept it.
“Put your thinking caps on, boys. Get back to me if you have any ideas. Till then, just remember that the idea is to stay low and stay out of trouble. Comprendé?” I declared as I started walking out of the room.
The whole club was still in shock. Nothing like this had ever happened to us before, and it was time for me to take charge.
Chapter 4
Ensley
It was Saturday night, and I finally had some room to breathe. After the week that I’d had with every minute of every day and night scheduled and planned, I felt like tonight was going to be a well-deserved break. I had organized a last-minute girls-only night out at a bar in downtown LA with four of my closest friends in the city. These were girls who I’d grown close to over the past five years, girls who were in similar positions as me-we were all struggling actors, only I was now a little different from them. I had broken through.
We arrived at the bar; all dressed to the nines. For a change, I didn’t have to take fashion advice from my stylist tonight. I had dressed in slim dark jeans and a copper-glimmering crop top. I’d styled my long gold hair so that they fell in soft waves around my shoulders and I went for a more smokey makeup for the night. I didn’t have to adhere to the “nice girl,” “sophisticatedly dressed” actress look tonight.
Just as we were entering the bar, I heard some giggles behind me. My friends Cameron and Fiona turned to look, just as I heard a girl’s voice.
“You are Ensley Adams!”
I caught the look of jealousy in Fiona’s eyes when I turned to face a girl who was my age and bubbling with excitement. I tried not to think about what Fiona was thinking in that moment.
“I am. I’m surprised you recognized me!” I exclaimed, putting on my public-eye smile for a fan.
“Of course, I did! I just watched your show and then saw you on Mcfarland’s Late Night show,” she giggled, and I smiled some more.
“Would you mind if I took a selfie with you?” the girl asked, throwing excited looks at her friends who had gathered around her now.
I looked over my shoulder at Fiona, Cameron and the others. They were standing by the door of the bar with their shoulders slumped, already looking bored. I threw them a look of apology and turned back to the girl who had already gotten her camera ready.
“Of course. Where do you want me?” I asked, and the girl and her friends gathered around me. I smiled at her phone and the flash nearly burnt my eyes, but I didn’t drop my friendliness. They had a million questions to ask me, and I knew that my fans were my biggest asset.
I hugged some of them, shook their hands and was just about to break away and walk back to my group when an older woman intercepted me. She must have been in her mid-forties and behind her was a shy looking man who must have been her husband or her date for the night.
“Would you mind taking a photo with me too?” the woman asked, looking sorry for interfering with my night. I wanted to tell her that I had to go back to my friends. I could already see a few more people behind her, looking expectantly at me. There was a queue forming! If I agreed to a picture with her, I’d have to agree to a picture with all the others. But I knew, I couldn’t turn her away. The fact of the matter was that my career depended largely on how my fans perceived me. Just talent alone wasn’t going to ride me through the storm of a Hollywood career.
“I won’t mind at all. What’s your name?” I spoke to the woman as she put her arm around me. The man she was with was getting ready to take the photograph.
“Louisa and I love your show!” she exclaimed, and we laughed together as the cameras clicked.
As predicted, Louisa wasn’t the last one to want a photograph. I was intercepted by at least a dozen more people who wanted photos taken or autographs and I felt overw
helmed by all the attention. I must have been standing at the door of the bar for at least half an hour, interacting with people who wanted a few seconds of my time and I didn’t want to turn them away.
When the last person presented a business card for me to sign on the back of, I quickly backed away, waving at the others who continued to take pictures and smile.
I almost fell through the door of the bar, slightly relieved that I had managed to get away and at the same time, pleasantly on a high from all the attention. This was just the beginning, I knew there were lots more where that came from.
However, as much as I looked around the place, I couldn’t find Cameron or Fiona or any of the other girls. Had they just left the bar without telling me? Were they really that jealous of my newfound success?
I tried to not rile myself up. These were girls who were struggling to reach the position I had already reached. Who knew how I would behave if I were in their position? I let out a small sigh. None of them were really my best friends anyway, they were just like-minded people who I’d connected, a new city when I was trying to make a name for myself.
Instead of checking my phone or calling one of them, I decided that this was probably exactly what I needed. If they didn’t want to support my success, then that is fine with me. I started walking towards the bar so that I could sit there and have a few drinks by myself. I didn’t need the company of people who were envious of me when I could very well entertain myself.
“I’ll have a vodka martini, please,” I called out to the bartender, as I took a seat.
Chapter 5
Thorn
It had been two days since Church was last held, and none of the guys had come up with an idea we could use to make the club “go legit.” Neither had I, so I couldn’t just blame them alone. All our heads were wrecked.
I’d spent the past two days thinking over every possible way out, but my mind kept coming back to the same. We needed to get Enzo and the others out of prison as quickly as we could. We needed to sort this shit out.
Baby and the Biker: The Ghost Riders MC Page 36
