Her eyes snapped up to his as his tongue flicked out to lick his lips. She felt his fingertip move ever so slightly, tucking itself under the elastic he’d been touching a moment earlier. This was definitely moving into shady territory and she needed to win this part and get out of here fast.
She put on her best businesslike voice and looked directly at him. As she spoke, he crawled forward so his chest was against her knee. “I can do a sex scene, Richard. You don’t have to worry about me. As always, I’ll be completely professional. Will you write it into my contract and forward it to my agent, please?”
Richard’s breath caught in his throat. He was scaring her, now, and his eyes were glazed.
Not good!
“Well, it’s not as easy as that, I’m afraid. There’s still the matter of the other girls, you see. We’ll be calling them back for a second audition, of course, but we can avoid all that, if you’d like to show me what you can do right now. You can have your second audition here, and we wouldn’t need to see what they can do. We’d prefer to have you on this film—the director wants you as our first choice, if you ace the second audition.” His finger inched further under the elastic and his other hand left the arm of the chair to rest on her other thigh.
She sat up straight in her chair, hoping his hand would slip out of her skirt and he would back off, but he was ready for her. As she uncrossed her legs, he held tight to her bottom and pushed himself forward. She managed to swallow the gasp that threatened to escape her lips; she didn’t want him thinking she was scared of him, even though he’d snuck under the elastic on both sides, now. His hands were warm, and she wished, for a second, that he were an attractive, older man, so she could get through this better. Instead, he was grey-haired with stained teeth and a tiny tic near his left eye that she couldn’t help noticing now that he was so close.
It could be innocent enough. He hasn’t forced me, and he’s not pressed up against me, or anything. Stop being a baby. Do you want this role, or not?
Still telling herself that this was all part of the Hollywood audition process, Charlotte tried to speak up, but her words came out as a whisper. “What would you like me to do?”
“We should see how you handle kissing a stranger.” She gulped as he continued. “There won’t be much time on set to get to know the other actors, so this is the place you could really fall down and delay production, if you can’t handle it.” He looked expectantly at her.
Oh God—he means him!
She closed her eyes to pretend this wasn’t happening and he seemed to take that as some kind of invitation to get started. He immediately slid his hands completely inside her underwear and pulled her ass forward on the chair. All of a sudden, his groin was pressed hard against her; her heart started to pound in her chest. Her eyes shot open as he moved in to kiss her, and she tried to tell herself that this was just acting. It wasn’t like they were going to have sex. They were acting out a scene and this was no different than any rehearsal for the stage.
It didn’t feel the same, though. His eyes were open and he was watching her, like a predator. He wasn’t playing his part, but she was meant to play hers.
Jesus, I’ve come this far. Let’s fucking get the kiss over with, so I can get the part and go home to wash his smell off me!
Charlotte took a deep breath and closed her eyes again. She softened her lips and tilted her head a little, inviting him in. She imagined she was kissing the hottest movie star of the day and wasn’t surprised when a certain blue-eyed child star’s face suddenly flashed behind her eyelids. Oh yes, he’d do nicely to replace the dirty, old man who was making her jump through hoops right now, while his fingers started to dig ever so slightly into the flesh of her rear. She put her hands on his shoulders and dug her own fingers into his skin. Her eyes were closed, but she didn’t miss his sudden hiss of breath at her movements.
He knows I’m committed to this. I’m the one for his damned movie.
He moved forward and captured her lips in his, and she imagined that Jack was melding his lips with hers. God, how she wished that were true. His tongue slipped inside her mouth and she let her lips part the tiniest bit, as she wondered how Jack’s mouth would taste.
Surely that’s enough?
It wasn’t enough, though, and she suddenly realised her mistake.
Too late!
As his tongue jammed hard inside her mouth, her eyes flew open and she tried to push him away. He squeezed her bum painfully and rammed his rock-hard groin into hers. She cried out and tried to slide away in the seat, but he held her firmly as he continued his assault on her lips. She leaned backward and squirmed away, trying to get free of him as he grabbed the side of her face and his fingers tangled painfully in her hair.
“Not so fast, girlie. You haven’t even sucked my dick yet.”
He pushed himself on top of her as she fell back in the chair, and she suddenly knew with absolute certainty that this had been no audition. She’d been more stupid than she could imagine and had fallen into his trap. Charlotte had been so desperate to get a part in this movie that she’d let herself be led into dangerous territory it now looked like she’d have trouble escaping from.
What the actual fuck?
She still had a slight advantage, since he was on his knees and she was sitting higher than him, and she remembered what her brothers had taught her when they were kids.
Always aim for the groin, Charlotte. However you manage to get there, no matter what you do, always aim for the groin, if you want to get away quickly.
She suddenly went limp in the chair and the idiot took it as her meek compliance. He knew she knew she was beat, and he took a moment to settle himself a little more comfortably, loosening his grip on her and letting go of her hair. She shot upright in the chair, startling him. He fell back on his knees as his face changed from smug satisfaction to absolute fury.
Prepare for another facial expression, asshole!
She lifted her foot and jammed it onto his dick, slamming into him as hard as she could with no room to move. He dropped his hands from her thighs and let out a screeching howl, as he fell to the side, clutching the front of his pants. She lithely stepped away from him and sprinted for the door. He was cursing and yelling as she dragged it open, screaming to her that she’d never get the part. It came out as a whine, though, since he was writhing in agony.
“You will give me that part, you piece of shit, or I’ll release what I just recorded to the media.” She waved her mobile phone around and made sure he could see it.
Please, please let me sound like I recorded something.
“I’ve captured every filthy thing you did and everything you said; unless I see a contract by the end of the week, your wife, your children, and all of Hollywood will know exactly how you treat young girls who come to you for guidance.” She tried not to let a hysterical laugh escape her, as he glared at her from the carpet. “You think I acted well when you kissed me? See how well I can act the part of the distressed, young starlet.”
She slammed the door behind her and bolted down the hallway as he continued to shout at her, but she wasn’t even listening, since her heart was pounding in her ears. Charlotte ran headlong into the street and past the security guard, who barely looked up at her. She suddenly knew she wasn’t the first woman he’d seen running from these offices after hours.
What a sick fucking place this is!
***
At around the same time that Charlotte was stomping on Richard James’ most prized possession, Jack was hanging out in the green room before his latest television appearance on the Ricky Pearson show. He hated Ricky Pearson; the guy was a complete dick and didn’t care what he had to do to boost his ratings. Freddy stood in front of him and reminded him again not to lose his temper once the cameras were rolling.
“Why did you even book this show? You know what Ricky’s like. He’d distribute his own mother’s sex tape, if he thought it would get him publicity.”
“I kno
w, but I booked you for this for exactly that reason. This is the best place for you to cement your new image. You can drop the F-bomb on this show, like you can’t on the others. This is where you can show people you’re not that child star, anymore, making cheesy toothpaste commercials and dancing in teeny, tiny, cute, little tuxedos.”
Jack scowled at the reference. His mother still loved that commercial more than anything he’d ever done in his career. It was a time in his life he could not escape; every time a television show decided to feature him, that cute kid with the piercing, blue eyes would pop up in his tap shoes and tuxedo. It didn’t matter that he’d made several movies, which had been massive box office successes, since then. It didn’t matter that he’d taken time out and was now back years later with a new music career. Jack couldn’t believe the ad was haunting him all these years later, even now that he was a famous rock star with rock-hard abs to match.
“Fuck that tuxedo.” Jack flopped down onto the couch, careful not to mess up his hair.
“Yes, that’s what Ricky can do for you. So, get out there, smile, show off that six pack, and let the world see what Jack Fawkner’s all about now—and reconsider what we talked about.”
“No way. There’s no way I’m changing my name. My name is my name and even if it will help shed the kid image, I’m not changing it.”
Freddy sighed and turned away to watch the screen showing the current guest, Missy Adams, being grilled by Ricky about the best way to eat a banana. The former porn star, who now had her own television show, was playing along beautifully; Ricky was milking the camera angles as much as he could. Freddy could visualise the control room and the director’s absolute delight at Missy’s antics.
He glanced at Jack and worried that the audience would be disappointed with him after the lewd Missy Adams had regaled them. Jack would be performing at the end of the show, though, and that always wowed them. Even if he couldn’t bring himself to milk the image change thing, he was a hell of a performer when his moment came.
“What the fuck is she doing to that carrot?” Jack asked from the couch.
“God knows, but maybe I should have arranged to get you both out there together. She probably wouldn’t have missed her chance to fawn all over you, and that would definitely have shown how adult you are. I might have gotten it wrong, insisting that you go on alone.”
“Or you saved me from being mauled by an aging ex-porn star.”
“Don’t knock it ‘till you’ve tried it,” Freddy chuckled as Jack rolled his eyes and gave up trying to protect his hair. He stretched out on the couch and closed his eyes, but he opened them again as an image of Charlotte and her delectable lips floated into his mind. Jesus Christ, was there no peace to be had anywhere? Why was he thinking of those lips, now? Was extending his career worth it? He already had a stack of money in the bank; why hadn’t he just retired with his cash and been content with being a child star who’d bought his mom a house?
Because you’re not ready to give it up.
He knew that, already—he didn’t need a little voice in his head to remind him. Jack was in this for the long haul and always had been. Even as a four-year-old, he’d dreamed of being an old rock star, rubbing shoulders with other old rock stars at the awards ceremonies he’d seen on television. His career progression was a marathon, not a sprint, as they said. Jack was at the exhausting stage, now, where you had to fight yourself every step of the way to make sure you didn’t give up. A year or two from now, he’d pop out on the other side and be able to see the glorious finish line: the trophy podium where all his dreams lay. Until then, he had to endure idiots like Ricky Pearson and their inane questions. He heaved himself off the couch as the door opened and he was informed that he had five minutes until he was due on set.
To pass the time, he said to Freddy, “What the hell kind of name is ‘Jax,’ anyway?”
Freddy’s eyes lit up. “It’s a perfect name. Jax.” He tested how it sounded on his tongue. “Women will swoon for it and men will want to emulate it. It’ll be up there with the biggest stars, who only need their first name mentioned for us to know exactly who they are.” Freddy swung his hand in front of him like he was revealing a billboard of shining lights spelling out his name. “Not even Michael Jackson managed to achieve that.”
The assistant appeared and indicated for Jack to follow her.
“Trust me, kid, I know what I’m talking about.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Jack shook his head and stormed out, shouting over his shoulder, “Even you call me a fucking kid!”
***
Ricky Pearson was as annoying and infantile as Jack remembered.
He made jokes about Jack having only just reached the drinking age, even though he’d recently turned twenty-nine. He also kept referring to the series that had given Jack his big break as a seven-year-old. Worse than that, though, he played the tuxedo kid video and Jack had to watch his younger, baby-faced self, smiling at the camera and tapping out that familiar routine.
“Can you still do that routine, Jackie?” Ricky asked him as Jack imagined what it would be like to punch him in the mouth. Ricky’s perfectly straight, white teeth tempted him, but Jack leaned back on the couch and did his best to outwardly look relaxed at the use of his child actor name. Freddy lurked behind Ricky off camera and Jack could see him shaking his head and urging Jack to stay calm.
Like fuck.
“I probably can. I’ve seen the video replay enough times, now, and I think I’m ageing pretty well.” The audience confirmed that with one woman screaming that she loved him. He smiled and thanked her before turning to Ricky. “I’m looking forward to teaching my kids how to do that, one day.” He saw Freddy give him a thumbs up as he managed to slip in two of the references to adulthood they’d talked about.
“Kids? Wow, it’s hard to imagine you having kids.”
“Why? I’m an old man, now, by Hollywood standards.” Jack tried not to let his jaw show that he was gritting his teeth.
“Well, it feels like we’ve only just gotten used to seeing you out of diapers.” The crowd laughed and Jack clenched the fist furthest from the audience, as Ricky turned to them. “Don’t you all still think of him as little Jackie Fawkner?” The crowd cheered in response and a couple of people whistled as Jack groaned inwardly.
Changing my image is taking too fucking long.
He stood from the couch and drew himself up to his full height of six feet, two inches. He nearly laughed out loud at the panic on Freddy’s face and the second of uncertainty on Ricky’s grinning mug. Jack slowly looked out to the audience, made eye contact with a woman he could barely see through the bright studio lights, and smiled at her. She smiled too.
“Excuse me for a second, Ricky,” he said, and he headed toward the woman. The cameraman and all the crew suddenly launched themselves into action as they followed his path into the audience. He stopped in front of the woman and silently said an apology for what he was about to do. He then took her hand as she gazed at his smiling face and used his other hand to slowly pull his shirt out of the tight, denim jeans he was wearing. He did it slowly, without breaking eye contact with the woman for a second. She couldn’t tear her eyes off him, but he knew she was dying to see what his other hand was doing.
Finally, he pulled his shirt up to reveal his taut, tanned abdomen. Jack placed the woman’s hand on his washboard stomach and took his time looking from her to the camera. With a cheeky twinkle in his eye, he said to her, “Does this feel like little Jackie Fawkner, baby?” She blushed deep red and laughed as she kept her hand firmly on his skin. He reached up to pull his shirt off and threw it into the crowd; several women shrieked and reached up to catch it. “Does that smell like little Jackie Fawkner’s shirt?” He called to them.
The woman who’d ended up with it stood on her seat and raised his shirt to her nose, keeping her eyes on his the whole time. She sniffed and closed her eyes for a second, before turning to the camera with a smile and announc
ing, to Jack’s utter relief, “This shirt smells of Jack Fawkner, Ricky, and I guarantee this scent is all delicious man.” A wild cheer went up from the audience, and Jack leaned down to kiss the woman with her hand on his stomach. She squealed into his mouth.
After sauntering back to the stage, he plopped down on the couch and stretched out with a self-satisfied smile.
Take that, Ricky Pearson, you dick!
Ricky wasn’t done with him, though. He watched Jack with a calculating look, determined to have the last word. He waited for the crowd to settle down before turning to Jack with an innocent expression. Freddy held his breath behind the set as everyone waited for Ricky to speak.
“So, Jackie,” he held up a placating hand with a smile, “Jack. If you’re so grown up, why have you never had a grown-up girlfriend?”
“I’ve had girlfriends, Ricky—I’m just a little more discrete than most people.”
“Really? Because most of your new lyrics are about love and relationships, yet we don’t see you out with any women. Some people might even be starting to ask questions about your sexuality. Not me, of course, but you have to admit that it’s a common question. How can you write and sing about love, if you’ve never been in love?”
Jack clenched his fist again and turned to the left so he couldn’t see Freddy’s frantic signalling. He smiled at Ricky and prepared for the pleasurable sound of his nose breaking.
***
As Jack was forcefully thrown out of the studio, onto the street, Freddy came running out behind him. “What the fuck was that? You fucked up your chance to perform at the end of the show! That’s the part that gets you remembered!”
Contracted For Love: Famous Love Series Page 2
