Sheer: A Hollywood Romance (Exposed Book 3)

by Sarah Robinson

"Simone," a voice called out behind her.

  She recognized it immediately but kept walking. There was nothing she wanted to hear from Grant right now, and after his tirade of insults all day, she wasn't gearing up for any more. The trailer door handle was cool beneath her palm as she grabbed it and pulled. She stepped inside and reached to close the door behind her. His hand on the doorframe blocked her way.

  "Move your hand or it's getting crushed," she commanded through narrow eyes.

  "Christ," Grant replied, moving his hand out of the way but stepping closer to block the door with his entire body now. "That seems a little harsh."

  "I'm harsh?" Simone scoffed. "Have you seen yourself today? You've been an asshole from minute one."

  Grant shrugged his shoulders, pushing his hands into his pockets. "I've been a bit of a pill."

  Simone crossed her arms over her chest, surveying him for a moment. There was a look of remorse on his face that did seem sincere, but she still didn't know him well enough to believe it. She might have jumped into bed with him, but today had reminded her exactly how little she knew this man.

  Grant stepped forward and closed the trailer door behind him. She did her best not to notice the way his jaw tensed, perfectly covered with a hint of stubble, or the way his arms were filling out his T-shirt sleeves, stretched tight around his muscular biceps.

  "I was honestly ticked off when I woke up to you gone this morning," Grant continued. "I thought we'd had a pretty good night together, and that…I don't know. It stung."

  She blinked, confused. "You…wait…that upset you? I was doing you a favor."

  Now he seemed to be the one confused. "What favor?"

  Simone stepped to the side, leaning against the small kitchen counter to one wall of the trailer. "You know. Guys always want the girl to leave after a one-night stand. I just made it less awkward because you didn't have to tell me to go."

  Grant's head tipped back and he laughed…loud.

  She startled at first, but then irritation flooded her. "What's so funny?"

  "We're not in college, Simone. This isn't a frat house. I wasn't trying to fuck you to add another conquest to my list," he said, closing the gap between them as he walked over to her. He took her hand in his, squeezing gently. "We're two grown adults who wanted to spend time together. I wanted to spend time with you."

  "Oh." She honestly didn't know what to say to that. Everything about what they'd done had screamed one-night-stand, but now…she wasn't so sure. "So, you want…you wanted this to be more?"

  He shrugged his shoulders. "Well, I still leave for London in a month, but…yeah, I want more. Since the moment I met you, I've been interested in you, Simone. You're gorgeous and witty and have a fiery temper that gives me life. Maybe it's crazy, maybe it's fast, but if there's one thing I've learned lately, it's that the good times don't last. We have to enjoy life while we can, and next to you…life has been pretty enjoyable. I can only imagine another month of that would be even better."

  She'd never gone into anything before with an expiration date. Honestly, that sounded fucking terrible. What if she really fell for him and then had to say goodbye? She wasn't sure she had the emotional stamina to deal with that kind of roller coaster.

  But at the same time, he was right. She did really enjoy his company, and she'd been infatuated with him from the moment he first pissed her off on set days ago. There was no doubt in her mind that she'd regret not experiencing this next month with him…even if that was all they had.

  "I've never done anything like that before…so casual."

  Grant lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. "It seems to me there's a lot of things you've never done…maybe it's time we changed that."

  He wasn't wrong there. She'd lived so much of her life swimming in the shallow end of the pool and lifeguarding for everyone around her. She'd never taken real risks or put herself first, and here she was, contemplating diving into something that would undoubtedly end in heartbreak.

  Fuck it.

  "Okay," she said. "One month. Casual. Just fun."

  A smile spread across Grant's face. "I want to take you somewhere tonight. It'll be a surprise. Text me your address and be ready to go at eight."

  Simone nibbled on her bottom lip but nodded her head. Based on the way her stomach somersaulted when he was around, she had no doubt that this was going to be one of the most exhilarating months of her life.

  Until it all crashed and burned.

  Chapter Nine

  "I don't think I've been to this part of town before." Simone stepped out of the passenger seat of Grant's rental car.

  He circled the car and reached a hand toward her. "I think you'll like it."

  She took his hand tentatively, surprised at the sweet gesture. He squeezed the tips of her fingers between his, and butterflies swirled in her stomach. They passed several storefronts, then a restaurant, then a bar, but continued walking down the sidewalk. Simone frowned, wondering how far they were going when they'd already passed several really nice date-worthy places.

  They reached the corner and turned down a dark alleyway.

  "There's nothing down here, Grant," she said, slowing her steps.

  He chuckled. "See that blue light?"

  A small blue lightbulb hung from a chain next to a dark, metal door at the end of the alleyway. No signs, no indication that it led to anything at all.

  "That's where we're going."

  They approached the door, and he knocked on it three times.

  Nothing happened.

  "Maybe it's closed?" Simone glanced back the way they'd come. "Probably not a lot of people hanging out at the end of dark alleyways who aren't murderers."

  He knocked three more times. "Have a little faith."

  With a creaky squeak, the metal door swung open. They had to jump back quickly so as not to be hit by it.

  "IDs?" A man in a white shirt and suspenders with a handlebar mustache was bathed in the blue light as he stood in the doorway staring at them.

  They each pulled out their driver's licenses, and he examined them against a list on aged parchment paper.

  "Head on in."

  "Thanks," Grant replied, taking her hand and leading them past the doorman. The light was even darker in the hallway, but a red light glowed at the end, peeking out from between two thick, velvet curtains that she saw as they got closer.

  Grant pushed aside one set of curtains and held it open for her.

  Simone stepped through and was immediately shocked at the venue they'd just entered. Warm wood tones on the paneled walls, plank floor, and beamed ceilings completely encapsulated the large room. Red velvet booths ran along on wall, and on the opposite wall was a long stone bar where people were seated, engaged in lively conversation with bartenders in old-timey clothes.

  "Is this a speakeasy?" She turned to look at Grant as he wrapped an arm around her waist.

  He nodded. "I came across it a few years back on one of my trips here. Now I come anytime I'm in Los Angeles. You won't find a single mention of this place online. No signs. No anything. The only way to find out about it is from other patrons."

  "I feel like I should be in a flapper's dress, or something like that," she teased, following his lead as he guided them to a booth in the back.

  "Nah," he replied, steering her toward the booths. "Everyone here is nicely dressed, and they only do the themed nights on Fridays and Saturdays."

  Too bad it was Thursday. "We should come back tomorrow then! Dress the full nine yards," she suggested.

  He laughed. "We could."

  They slid into a booth, and a bartender showed up in seconds, placing two glasses in front of them—one a small rocks glass and the other a champagne flute. Simone eyed the two different glasses after the bartender left. "What are these?"

  "Mine's an old fashioned," Grant said, gesturing to the rocks glass. "Yours is a French 75. Both popular drinks from the 1920's."

  "And they just automatically pick
a drink for you?" That seemed odd, to be honest.

  "Try it," he assured her. "They never get it wrong."

  Simone took a sip from her flute, the sweetness of the champagne and sugar mixing perfectly with the acidity of the lemon juice. "Mmm. This is actually exactly what I would have ordered."

  "See? They know what they're doing." Grant took a swallow from his glass, a small moan parting his lips.

  Tension built in Simone's belly at the very sound of his pleasure. She scooted closer to him on the round booth bench, leaning into his side as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "Thanks for bringing me here. I've always wanted to experience something like this."

  He lifted his glass to hers. "To trying new things."

  She clinked the edge of her flute to his glass. "To being bold and baring it all."

  Grant lifted one brow. "I would love to see you bare it all."

  She blushed at his implications. "I'm sure you would, but that's not what I meant."

  "I'll be good. For now," he teased, his fingers drawing small circles on her upper arm. "Tell me something about you I don't know, Simone."

  "Hmm…there's a lot about me you don't know."

  "Pick one thing."

  Simone considered her options. She honestly wasn't the type to open up and share much about herself at all. She was always focused on other people, but something about Grant made her not want to answer trivially. Sure, she could tell him her favorite color or something silly like that, but there was nothing light or trivial about Grant. He was heavy and serious in all of the best ways. He overwhelmed her, and she loved every moment of it.

  "When I was in college, I originally planned to be a doctor," she began. "But…I couldn't pass my pre-med courses and one of my teachers told me that I should pick something different because I'd never be successful in medicine. I ended up getting a fine arts degree and pursuing music instead, but I always felt like I failed and just fell back on the next best thing."

  Grant sighed softly. "You think being a singer was you settling?"

  She nodded slightly. "I don't know, honestly. I love singing. It's my passion. But…it's not really a 'job.'"

  "We live in a world that doesn't value the arts as a career or a serious life path," Grant replied. "When I told my parents I was going to write music for a living, they never took me seriously. They kept waiting for me to go out and get a 'real job.' There are people who are meant to be doctors and lawyers and accountants, whose talents lie in healing, and facts and numbers and solving problems. Then there are people like us, whose talents lie in creating problems, stirring up emotions, building melodies and lyrics that tear down defenses and overwhelm the senses. We could be the fixers, we could be the solvers, but, damn…it feels so good to make something brand new, to tear it all down and make a fucking mess."

  "Wow." Simone considered what he was saying for a moment. "I never really thought about it like that. Music has always been what I've loved, but I never really believed it could be a career. Or rather, that it should."

  "Yet here you are, doing it." Grant took another sip of his drink. "And succeeding on top of all that."

  She felt her cheeks warm slightly at the compliment. "When I was on stage in the finals at American Voice…God, this is embarrassing."

  "What? Tell me."

  "There was a girl in the front row and she was crying when I sang. There were a few people I could see crying—the stage lights were so bright though—but she was crying. Full on sobbing." Simone pulled her lips between her teeth for a moment, biting them before releasing. "And it was exhilarating. I was thrilled that she was breaking down…because of me. My words, my sound, my voice did that. Is that sick?"

  He shook his head. "No. It's beautiful. Broken is beautiful."

  They were quiet for a moment. Simone leaned closer to him, tucking her head into his neck. "Sometimes I feel broken."

  "All the time," he replied. “you are beautiful.”

  She hummed lightly, happiness swirling in her chest, which might have had something to do with the alcohol but definitely had everything to do with the man beside her. He angled his face to hers, those deep green eyes piercing her for a moment too long so that it almost hurt.

  When his lips touched hers and his tongue slid into her mouth, there was the hint of sugar and bitterness, perfectly blended. She moaned slightly, running her hand up his chest to behind his neck. She held him against her, kissing both soft and hard as their lips warred.

  The way he kissed her was hungry…needy…filling. It was unlike anything she'd ever experienced before. His arm slipped around her waist and pulled her closer to him. There was a heat between them that made her feel dizzy, the scene around them falling away as her attention was only focused on his lips, his tongue…him.

  Music suddenly filled the room—much louder than the soft overhead serenades that had been previously playing. Pulling apart, they looked toward the source to see a group of musicians in the far corner playing big band music and a trio of couples swing dancing on the dance floor.

  "Oh my gosh," Simone said, immediately captivated by the movements and atmosphere as the dancers flipped and swung across the floor like they'd been doing it their whole lives. "This couldn't be more perfect."

  "One of my favorite things about this place," Grant admitted, settling back against the booth to watch the show. "I'm not terrible on the dance floor, but these guys…they're fucking amazing."

  She nodded. "They are. I've always loved big band music. The old soul in me."

  He gently pushed her hair behind her shoulder, caressing her neck softly with his fingertips. "I like your soul. It's the first thing I noticed about you when you were tumbling down from the ceiling."

  "I was not tumbling. More like a graceful descent."

  "A graceful descent into cracking your head open on the concrete floor, sure."

  Simone laughed. "Well, thankfully, someone caught me."

  "Sounds like a hero," he teased. "You should really give him an award. Maybe the key to the city."

  Simone laughed, laying her head against his shoulder as they continued to watch the show. For her first night of making herself a priority and getting out there, she had to admit…she was enjoying it so much more than she thought she would. She hadn't considered her responsibilities once. She just felt…happy. Relaxed. Life felt easy.

  Maybe this was how it was always supposed to have felt.

  Chapter Ten

  "Mom?" Simone gently tapped on the bedroom door at her parents’ house. "Are you in here?"

  "Yeah," a muted response came back.

  Simone pushed the door open wider to see her mother's figure lying in bed, the blankets pulled high up over her shoulders. She sighed at the sight, an ache in her heart at the thought that her mother, Betty, was still in bed in the late afternoon on a Monday.

  It wasn't that unusual. Hell, this was their new normal in more ways than one. Simone had stayed at her parents’ house for almost a month after her father's passing, and her mother had spent most of that time in bed. Since moving back into her apartment, though, she hadn't been around as much. She still tried to make it over every other day, but when she did, her mother's improvement only seemed minimally better.

  "Have you eaten today, Mom?" she asked, sitting on the edge of the bed and rubbing her mother's back.

  Her mother stirred, turning toward her and giving her a small smile. "I think I forgot. What time is it?"

  "Almost four," Simone replied. "How about I cook us something for dinner?"

  Betty sat up, yawning and rubbing her eyes. "That would be nice, dear. I probably should eat something."

  "Have you been out of bed today?"

  Betty nodded. "I was at the cemetery first thing this morning like always. I never miss a morning with your father."

  Simone squeezed her mother's hand, knowing full well that her mother would probably continue to visit Jack's grave every day for the rest of her life. "Well, I'm glad you're getting
out of the house."

  "I'm not sure there's any food in the house to cook," her mother admitted, sliding her legs off the edge of the bed before standing up. "I haven't been to the store in a while."

  She actually hadn't been to the store in months. "I brought over groceries," Simone told her. "There's plenty for at least the next week. I also stopped at the pharmacy and picked up your medications. They're in the bathroom vanity."

  "You're so good to me," her mother replied, gently touching the side of Simone's face. "You do so much for me."

  "Don't worry about it, Mom," Simone assured her. "It's really no problem."

  They headed down toward the kitchen where Simone began taking out ingredients to make a stir-fry. Her mother sat at the breakfast counter and sipped on a glass of red wine.

  "Mom, what do you think about going through Dad's clothes this weekend? Maybe donating some of them?" Simone asked. "I think it would be good to clean out his closet and start to put his things away. The house still looks like he lives here."

  "He does live here, Simmy." Her mother didn't lift her eyes from her glass, pouring herself a second. "I can't get rid of his things."

  "Not 'get rid of.' Just donate. I think it makes you sadder to see his suits every day, don't you?"

  Her mother shook her head. "No. It's comforting. It's only been a few weeks, Simmy. I'm not ready yet."

  "Okay," Simone acquiesced. She certainly wasn't going to force her mother into anything she wasn't ready for, but she felt the need to do something. "What about the memorial coming up? Anything else you need help with?"

  The memorial was planned for the one-month anniversary of her father's passing. They hadn't wanted it to be too soon, giving all the extended family and friends time to coordinate their travel.

  "No," she replied. "You all have already taken care of everything. It's going to be a beautiful day."

  Simone was both looking forward to it and dreading it at the same time. She stirred the food in the pan in front of her, watching the steam rise. Saying goodbye to her father was going to be hard, but their life had been a permanent pause for the last few weeks. She needed this. She needed closure. She needed to put an end to this chapter in her life so that maybe…maybe…the pain would be less. Maybe if it wasn't her present, then it wouldn't hurt every moment of every day just to breathe.