Crazy Beautiful

by Penny Dee

  Crazy

  Beautiful

  (Book One of the Crazy Series)

  By

  Penny Dee

  Copyright © 2014 Penny Dee

  All rights reserved. No part of this ebook may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands and events are either the work of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  For Amber and Jason

  Acknowledgements

  As I sit here, pondering what to write on the acknowledgment page my mind casts over the past nine months and all I can think of is the amazing support I have received from so many people. There are so many of you to thank. Most of you were a part of the creative process without even realising it. Just by being there, listening to me, encouraging me and taking me out to drink when I needed to function like a normal human being and not like the hermit writer I easily became. You all helped. And I am so thankful.

  To my daughter, Amber. You are such a beautiful, lovely, kind, funny and insanely wonderful human being. Thank you for bringing so much sunshine into my life on a daily basis. Life is wonderful, because you are in it. You make everything worthwhile.

  To my husband, my very own book hero. Jason. Thank you for putting up with the bad moods, the piles of washing and ironing, the cries of frustration as they drifted out from my desk and the constant requests for vodka. Lots of vodka. I am so thankful you walked into my life. You certainly picked someone a little bit crazy and insane to spend your life with, and for that I am so grateful.

  To the entire CCU at my daytime work, especially Pete Willcox, Louise Tilley and Melissa Mackrell. Your daily support and encouragement certainly got me through some rough patches. Louise T, your enthusiasm for Heath and Harlow was such an amazing source of encouragement. And Pete, I learned so much from you and am so, so grateful for your help, advice and support. Mel, as promised, the cocktails are on me!

  To Vaughan…for more than quarter of a century of friendship and for introducing me to the awesomeness of CCU.

  To the fabulous Miss M (Mareldene). I discovered my writers voice through all those emails to you. Eight years of ridiculously funny emails full of italics and ellipsis. Talking to you certainly helped me find my voice (and humour) because you are so witty, sarcastic and brilliantly funny. One day we will make a book out of the hilarious emails we have written to one another … (insert winky smiley face here).

  And to all those brilliant bands out there that create magic with their music. Thank you, thank you, thank you. There were so many songs that I listened to throughout the writing process that inspired me to take my story and make it real.

  To the Universe for sending this my way. I’m so pleased I paid attention and followed through.

  Finally, to you readers who take the time to read this story. Thank you. I hope you enjoy getting to know Heath and Harlow as much as I did writing them. You guys rock! ;-)

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty One

  Chapter Twenty Two

  Chapter One

  HARLOW

  The day I flew to into California was Fat Tony’s birthday.

  My cousin Bridget picked me up from the airport and we drove straight to Fat Tony’s Pizza Palace, where he was celebrating his special day by making pizzas. After fifty years of flipping pizza bases, apparently it would kill him to take a day off, even on his birthday. So his staff had taken matters into their own hands and gathered family and friends to The Palace to celebrate. The place was packed and as we walked in, I was hit with the delicious aromas of Fat Tony’s traditional pizzas.

  Fat Tony was to be my boss for the next five months. When I’d asked my cousin if I could visit for the summer, she had convinced Fat Tony to give me a job, despite me never having worked a day in my life. He was giving me a job on her word, so I was determined to do my very best.

  As soon as I met him, I loved him. Short and round, he spoke with a heavy Italian accent and favored using his hands when explaining things. He was friendly, kind and jovial, and pulled me into a quick hug when he was introduced to me, like I was long lost family. It was no wonder The Palace was full of people celebrating his birthday. He was one of the nicest guys on the planet.

  Bridget was working, so I sat in a well-situated booth that overlooked the entire floor.

  “Coralee, Piper and Joey will be here soon. You’ll like them,” Bridget said, wrapping an apron around her waist. “Can I get you a drink?”

  I nodded and watched her disappear across the room towards the bar.

  That was when I saw him.

  Everything slowed down and went silent as he caught my eye across the pizzeria.

  He stood talking to Fat Tony, a dimpled smile on a face so damn handsome my breath caught in my throat. He wore jeans over motorcycle boots and a belt slung around his hips, fixed at the front with a decorative belt buckle. His sleeveless shirt exposed thick, muscular arms covered in Celtic artwork and symbols all the way down to his wrists.

  Behind him, two very pretty girls in barely-there tops and daisy dukes so short they were more fabric strips than shorts, giggled and tried to catch his attention with unsubtle flicks of their long hair. But if he noticed them, he didn’t show it. He continued talking to Fat Tony like they were old friends, those glorious dimples flickering either side of his beautiful mouth as they laughed over something he’d said.

  I traced imaginary lines over the curves of the Celtic tattoo that curled over his well-formed shoulder, along his muscular bicep and down his thick forearm. Everything about him was spectacular.

  Forgetting to catch my breath, I watched him raise his head. As if he’d heard someone call his name he looked around and scanned the room until his eyes found mine.

  I couldn’t have looked away if I’d tried, not if my life had depended on it.

  From my vantage point it was impossible to see what color his eyes were, but I could see the reflection of the bar lights in them as he held my stare. He tilted his head to the side, as if he was trying to figure something out, and then righted himself. His brows, perfectly placed on his beautiful face, drew together as if he had just realized something he wasn’t sure about, before he looked away. But not for long. As he turned back to Fat Tony, he cast another look over his shoulder and held me with his eyes.

  “His name is Heath Dillinger.”

  Lost in the moment I hadn’t noticed Bridget return with our drinks.

  I looked at my cousin but before I could speak, Bridget added, “And don’t go there. Believe me. That boy is trouble.”

  I glanced over at the guy called Heath and felt my insides stir. He was still talking to Fat Tony. But as I watched, he cast another look over his shoulder and our eyes held for another, breathless moment. Yet his face remained expressionless.


  “Did you hear me? I said he is bad news Harlow. Don’t be making eyes at the man-whore across the room.”

  I felt spell bound but managed a moment of lucidity. I was probably suffering from jet lag. Although I wasn’t sure you got jet lag from Savannah to Los Angeles.

  “I’m not.”

  Bridget rolled her eyes. “He’ll be notching those two girls on his belt tonight. And he’ll probably eat another one before breakfast.” She sat down next to me. “He’s your quintessential bad boy.”

  I couldn’t help but smile. “Have you…?”

  Bridget looked horrified, like I’d just stuck her with a fork. “What? Him? Are you kidding me? No way! But I know plenty of girls who have and I’m telling you now, he’s a heartbreaker.”

  Someone in the party screamed playfully drawing our attention away from Heath. When I looked back, he was gone. Disappointed, I sipped my beer.

  “Well, well, well, if it ain’t my fav’rite Southern belle,” came an exaggerated Southern accent from behind us. I peered over my shoulder at the handsome young man walking towards us. He climbed over Bridget to squeeze in between us even though the other side of the booth was vacant.

  Sighing he kissed Bridget on the cheek and then turned to look at me. “My God you’re beautiful!” he exclaimed, and then looking back at Bridget added cheekily, “wish I was part of your gene pool.”

  “Don’t mind Leo,” said Bridget, leaning forward and smiling, “He’s our bartender. But he’s also the resident gossip here at The Pizza Palace, so be warned.”

  Leo looked surprised then smiled proudly. “And I’m fabulous at it. Now tell me all about you.”

  “Be careful Harlow, it’ll all be around town tomorrow.”

  “Oh hush!” He waved off Bridget, and then turned back to me with an exaggerated roll of his eyes, and mouthed, “She’s such a liar.”

  “You’re right … it won’t be your version, Harlow. It’ll be Leo’s souped up version.” She looked fondly at my new friend, adding, “Leo is very creative.”

  He shrugged innocently. “So, I have been known to bend the truth on occasion.”

  “Bend the truth? On occasion? Leo, you’re a real Steven Spielberg.”

  He grinned. “I’m flattered.”

  I smiled, and shrugged. “My story isn’t very interesting I’m afraid.” Nodding towards the club where everyone was celebrating. “Why don’t you put those creative super powers to work and tell me about some of the people here?” I suggested, keen to distract Leo’s interest from me and redirect it somewhere else.

  “Oh, this will be good,” Bridget murmured.

  “Oooh, what a fabulous idea. Who would you like me to start with? Randy pants over by the jukebox or Mr. Hot Jock over there with all those glorious muscles and his jeans slung so low I’m surprised we haven’t seen the pet weasel pop out.”

  Bridget almost choked on her beer. I smiled and allowed my eyes to rest on the guy I now knew as Heath.

  “Let’s start with the pet weasel,” I said.

  Leo rolled his eyes. “They all want to know about Heath Dillinger darling.”

  “All?” I raised my eyebrow.

  “Ohhh, I like that,” Leo said, referring to my arched brow, “very Scarlet O’Hara.” He turned back to Heath who was now talking to three girls. “Every single girl that comes to the Pizza Palace sets her target on that lovely piece of man meat. And rumor has it, he doesn’t disappoint.” He sighed dramatically, and flopped his chin down onto his hand, adding dreamily, “Pity he doesn’t bat for my team. I could eat him with a side salad and a nice bottle of Chianti.”

  “Ugh, now you just sound like a creepy Hannibal Lecter,” Bridget said.

  “Like Hannibal Lecter wasn’t already creepy enough?” I asked.

  “Hannibal Lecter with a twist of camp,” Bridget replied.

  “Say what you like my fair ladies, but that man put the sex in sex stick!”

  “And he’s put that sex stick in half the women in Orange County.” Bridget eyed me. “Anyway, Harlow has a man back home, don’t you Harlow?”

  I looked away.

  “Do tell,” Leo insisted, nudging me with his shoulder.

  “He is a thousand miles away. And he’s not really my man anymore.”

  Bridget looked shocked. “What?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “I’m not in a hurry to go anywhere,” Bridget said.

  “Family gossip, I do love you Southern folk!” Leo interjected with a beaming smile.

  “We are on a break,” I explained.

  “Do your parents know?” Bridget asked, and when I looked away, added, “They don’t? Harlow, you’ve got a big debutante season coming up—“

  “And that is almost five months away.” I gave my cousin a stern look. “So until then, I’m not going to worry about Colton, the deb ball or my parents, okay.”

  Bridget nodded. “Now I understand why you were so desperate to get out of Savannah.”

  “Colton? Your beau is called Colton?” Leo asked.

  “He’s not my beau.”

  “You’re non-beau is called Colton?”

  “Colton Labousse,” I said.

  “Ugh! No wonder you dumped his ass.” Leo pulled a face. Then seeing his latest crush across the room, he exclaimed, “Oooh good, there’s Jeremy. Apparently he can suck a snooker ball through a vacuum cleaner pipe. And that basically ticks all the boxes for me.” He stood up. “So if you will excuse me ladies, I’m going to have to bid you adieu.”

  “You’re deserting us Leo?” asked Bridget.

  “Honey I’m going to go and get myself laid.”

  We watched him disappear across the room toward a rather effeminate looking lad with short dark hair and fluid, feminine movements.

  Bridge climbed out of the booth, ready to get back to work. “And that tornado was Leo Hamilton.”

  “I like him.”

  “He was the first person I met out here. He came straight up to me and told me I had the most fascinating eyes he had ever seen. Then he proceeded to ask me to bear his children if I was still single at thirty, and we’ve been friends ever since.”

  I laughed. “I would expect that of him.”

  A very attractive redhead appeared next to us. She was all of five-foot nothing with the longest red hair I’d ever seen. It was a stunning shade and tumbled in thick waves to her waist. When she smiled, she looked like a beauty queen. God the guys back home would flip over her.

  “Hi, I’m Piper. You and I are going to work together,” she said as she sat down next to me. She was very cute and when she smiled she reminded me of the Australian actress, Isla Fisher.

  “Piper is one of the other waitresses here,” Bridget explained, unnecessarily. “Her other half is in a band with Heath.”

  The gorgeous man-creature was in a band?

  “Actually they’re playing later at Epic,” Piper said.

  Epic? I looked at Bridget.

  “It’s a club,” she explained.

  “You guys should come and watch them play. I’m going there later. Jesse and Heath just dropped me off because they wanted to wish Fat Tony a happy birthday.”

  “I’m working. But you should go, Harlow,” said Bridget.

  “Yeah, Harlow. Come and see them with me. It’ll be fun.” Piper really was stunning when she smiled. And cute. Adorable, even.

  “I’m not really dressed for a club.” Not that I knew what people wore to clubs out here. But I was still dressed in the knee length day dress and cashmere cardigan I’d left Georgia in. I wasn’t sure if pearls and cashmere were acceptable club wear.

  “You look fine. Hey, this is California … anything goes.” Bridget winked.

  “So you’ll come?” Piper asked, tucking one leg underneath her.

  I looked to Bridget.

  “You should go. Have some fun.”

  I shrugged. I’d come to California after an adventure. It might as well start now. “Okay.”


  Piper squealed and hugged me like I’d just offered her a kidney.

  I stayed at The Pizza Palace for another couple of hours where I met the other staff members I’d be working with over the summer. Coralee had worked as a waitress at The Pizza Palace for over thirty years. She had a kind smile and big dangling plastic earrings that jingled as she spoke. Joey was young with shaggy brown hair and dark green eyes. He was one of the bartenders and seemed a little shy.

  When nine o’clock rolled around, Piper looked at her watch. “We should get going. The guys will be going on stage soon.”

  I found Bridget to say goodbye.

  “Have a good time.” She smiled and then raised a perfectly arched eyebrow. “But don’t touch anything. Even the walls will get you pregnant.”

  * * * * *

  The music was so loud I could barely hear myself think. Everything about the place was a warning to stay away. Set off an alley we passed a fat bouncer and climbed a grimy staircase leading up to the darkened club.

  Before going in I heard the violent thud of live music and powerful male vocals. I hesitated but Piper grabbed my wrist and pulled me through the doorway, into the unknown. Immediately, two scantily clad girls pushed passed us, giggling and squealing something about the singer on stage.

  It took me a moment to focus my eyes and ears in the darkness. I looked across the smoky room to the stage where the band were performing and recognized him immediately. Jean clad and with motorcycle boots, that magnificently muscular and tattooed body was moving amidst a glow of blue and white light. For a moment I couldn’t move. The sight was mesmerizing. He moved from one side of the stage to the other where he rested a booted foot on an amp and belted out such a powerful note that goosebumps tickled my skin.

  Piper bounced about with excitement and tugged at my arm.

  “There they are,” she cried, clutching me close to her. “Look at Jesse, isn’t he gorgeous?”

  She squeezed my hand and squealed again. It was a noise that would be annoying from anyone but her. Somehow she made it sound adorable.

  I nodded and grinned. Her boyfriend was the rhythm guitarist with curly blonde hair. But my eyes fell back to the guy in command of the microphone. I didn’t want to admit it, but he kind of had me spellbound as he performed on that stage in front of a club of adoring fans.