Hollywood Stardust Supporting Roles - Wilson and Giselle

by Kim Carmichael

  At the rustling of papers he inched toward the doorjamb trying to spy what she would produce.

  “What’s this?” Jade raised one of the documents.

  “There are companies who will give loans to people in need.” She let out a nervous chuckle. “Funny the people who need the loans the most are the ones who can’t get them.”

  “Willow, these are loans designed so that no one ever pays them off.” Jade shook her head.

  A shudder ran though him at the thought of the interest rates alone. Those loans were no joke and lured in desperate people who needed money fast and under the most dire circumstances.

  At his realization, he glanced at the time and resumed his eavesdropping.

  “Hey, I didn’t mean for you to spy. What are you some kind of creep?” Slate came from the other direction and pushed him into the office. “Look at what I found lurking about.”

  He stumbled into the room and his head spun. Once he regained his footing, he gave Jade a half-hearted wave and glanced at Willow. If possible, her light complexion was even paler, almost translucent. He recognized her pallor. It was the same look he saw whenever someone honestly needed funds. Somehow he needed to tell her he had her stay of execution, and it would only require one year of her life.

  Jade narrowed her eyes at them.

  “I wanted to grab something to show our peeping Randolph.” Slate went to his desk and picked up his tablet computer.

  Both Jade and Willow focused on Randolph.

  “I don’t believe Willow should take out one of those high interest loans.” With all the attention on him, he did the only reasonable thing and brought sanity to an insane situation. The vice around his head seemed to tighten and he rubbed the back of his neck. “She needs to create as much inventory as possible for her shop because that is the only sure way she will have money coming in.”

  “I need the loan to buy the materials to make my inventory.” Willow lifted her chin.

  “Not if Jade is letting you take a break on the rent.” He returned his hand to his temple swearing he felt the pulse of pain through his fingertips.

  She hugged her papers to her chest. “My supplies are very expensive.”

  “Willow’s morning tea actually works. I feel great.” Slate looked up to the ceiling. “What’s it called?”

  “Activi-tea.” Jade went to Slate and hooked her arm in his. “We also loved the one you call Boo-tea.”

  The vision was a bit too nauseating and he returned to the matter at hand. “There are many grades of materials, just change some of it up to save money. It’s done all the time. I think the issue lies in not knowing your true profitability and not having a focus on your product offering.”

  “Some say when you are out of quality you are out of business.” Willow’s eyes widened.

  “There are others that say the same about money,” he countered.

  Silence encompassed the room.

  “Slate,” Jade whispered.

  “Hey, I really did want to show you something, and wanted to talk to you about the artistic co-op. Look at this.” Slate basically shoved the tablet in his face. “Remember that artist who creates those murals in the middle of the night in little hidden spots? They call him the Mural Man.”

  He nodded and restrained any reaction to the article and the picture. Instead, he kept his focus on Willow.

  “Whoever it is struck again last night and painted over some graffiti.” Slate stood next to him and enlarged the picture. “Wonder what this art would be worth. It’s different. I definitely need to get someone like him involved in the project.”

  “I may have another way to help you.” Without acknowledging Slate, he lifted his chin toward her. “A different kind of proposal.”

  “Honestly, Mr. Van Ayers, I’m not interested in anything you have to offer.” She reached into her bag, pulled out a little jar and held it out to him. “I do believe you need this though. Rub it on your temples for your headache, and later you can tell me if I skimped on my ingredients.”

  He took the jar. How did she know he had a headache? “Maybe we should talk in private.”

  “Or not at all.” She spun back around to face the desk.

  “Come on Birthday Boy, let’s go get your party started.” Slate corralled him out of the office.

  “I’ll be right there.” He watched Slate stroll down the hall and resumed his position with his back pressed against the wall, once more glancing at Willow and at his watch. They needed each other and he had only a little more time before his life had insufficient funds.

  COME UNDONE: Romance Stories Inspired by Duran Duran

  New Moon on Monday

  Kim Carmichael

  An Excerpt

  FROM OUTSIDE THE CLUB, the pound of the deep bass music vibrated through Owen Blakeley’s body. Too many years had passed since he ventured to one of these places. The music, the smoke in the air and the general disarray coupled with the kaleidoscope of people would serve as the perfect inspiration.

  “You know I need your help.” Blake pointed to the renovated old warehouse in the heart of downtown LA flooded in purple lights. “Come on, let’s do this.”

  “Club New Moon. Are you sure?” His head tailor, Sam Palmer, shook his head. “I think this looks like a better place to find a communicable disease rather than inspiration.”

  “New moons are a sign of change, renewal, a revolution.” Blake charged forward, stopping at a tinted window. “Drink some alcohol, it’s a natural antiseptic.”

  The window slid open and a man wearing leather, chains and more makeup than most women donned on the runway barely glanced in his direction. While tempted to ask the man who he was wearing or where he got his particularly interesting jacket with the multitude of buckles and spikes, Blake opted to hand over a hundred dollar bill, and without a word held up two fingers. A moment later two yellow neon wristbands were thrust in his direction. He handed one to Sam and they made their way past an extremely large man who appeared ready to kill and through an oversized door.

  At one point this warehouse might have held priceless works of art, maybe machinery, or even government experiments. Who knew what ghosts, muses and secrets lurked around the space?

  As they made their way through the wide-open area, he took in the array of people. Along with the buckles and chains came the denim, women in corsets and lace, boots and heels of every configuration. The fashion industry was missing out. This place was where the trends needed to be set, in the underground, in the unconventional, not by corporations choosing colors and fabrics based on market research and overstock.

  “I’m not dancing with you.” Sam elbowed him.

  “Quiet.” He needed to absorb the atmosphere.

  Sam followed. “Of course, I wouldn’t want to interrupt the peace and quiet.”

  For quite some time he wandered around, bobbing and weaving through the crowd until they made their way toward the back with a huge bar and some tables. He spied an empty one and took a seat.

  “I can’t sit here.” Sam shoved his hands in his pockets and bent down. “I’m wearing a Blake original.”

  “No one told you to wear a suit to a nightclub.” Blake kicked the opposite chair out from under the table to give his employee the hint. “At least you know where you can get another one…at cost.”

  “Screw you.” After taking his time to assess the chair, Sam sat and a grimace took over his face.

  “You’re not my type.” Blake scanned the area, turning around to make sure he took in everything. What he noticed most about the scene was the creativity. Anything and everything was fair game, from fetish wear to more traditional styles, vintage to what modern could be. The possibilities were a far cry from a suit and a tie. Though his designs were some of the best around, he could only push the male corporate uniform so far.

  “What can I get you?”

  A feminine voice broke through his study time and he turned toward it.

  He swore a beacon o
f light shined down upon the woman and the background completely disappeared.

  Before him stood the living incarnation of what he envisioned when he decided to start his women’s line. Curves for days were outlined to a tee by a black corset embroidered with blood red roses, while perfectly smooth white skin led up to a heart shaped face with luscious lips and light eyes. Her stark makeup only enhanced her delicate features and gave her that edge he craved. Shining red hair served as the cherry on top of her delicious offering.

  “Do you have a wine list?” Sam asked.

  “Sure, I know it by heart.” She shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “White or red.”

  Blake tore his focus away from the bounty bursting forth from her corset and glanced down at her shoes. Stilettos. If she could navigate the club in those shoes, what could she do on a runway? Of course he would have to teach her how to stand.

  “Red.” Sam let out a huff.

  “And you?” At last, the goddess turned her attention to him. The choker at her neck was interesting, a mix of leather and more roses. Maybe a vintage cameo with a silk ribbon would suit her better, especially if she put her hair up.

  “What?” He could deconstruct the choker, make it high end, use some different material, maybe even metal.

  “What would you like?” She tapped her foot.

  If he answered honestly, he would most likely be rewarded with being impaled on one of those amazing shoes. “You shouldn’t fidget like that. It does nothing for your clothes.” He wanted to take her all in without any distraction. “Wait, let me rephrase that.”

  With a glare, she crossed her arms.

  “Never cover yourself.” In order to take her in from a different angle, he tilted his head. “My God, you are in perfect proportion.”

  She put her hands on her hips, accentuating her hourglass figure. “Hey pal, what are you, some sort of fashion designer?”

  “Actually, yes. I am.” All he could do is stare at the beauty.

  “What do you want?” Eyes narrowed, she jutted out her jaw.

  “Your name.” They may as well start with the basics and work their way out from there. He had to get to know her better and flashed her a smile.

  “Two red wines.” She spun on her heel and walked away and didn’t trip on those sky-high shoes.

  Yes, he found his muse.

  About the Author

  Kim Carmichael

  Kim Carmichael began writing nine years ago when her love of happy endings inspired her to create her own.

  A Southern California native, Kim's contemporary romance combines Hollywood magic with pop culture to create quirky characters set against some of most unique and colorful settings in the world.

  With a weakness for designer purses, bad boys and techno geeks, Kim married her own computer whiz after he proved he could keep her all her gadgets running and finally admitted handbags were an investment.

  Kim is a PAN member of the Romance Writers of America, as well as some small specialty chapters. A multi-published author, Kim's books can be found all over the world.

  When not writing, she can usually be found slathered in sunscreen trolling Los Angeles and helping top doctors build their practices.

  To find out more about Kim Carmichael visit:

  Website: www.kimcarmichaelnovels.com

  Hollywood Stardust Website: www.chargge.com

  Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/kimcarmichaelnovels

  Twitter: @kimcarmichael4

  Amazon

  Novels:

  Typecast– What’s Your Fantasy?

  On The Dotted Line – A signature can change every thing

  Trifecta – A typical Romance that just happens to have three people

  Pieces of Three – Some are pieces of three

  Novellas:

  Closure – There’s always the one

  Eternity – His choice – eternal salvation or eternal damnation

  Shorts:

  Interchangeable – Two men have one night to show the woman they love they are not interchangeable

  The Promise – A mistake brought him to her, a promise kept him returning

  Hands On Me – Do they go with their mission or their hearts?

  Children’s Book:

  My Daddy Wears His Art – A story of acceptance

  Anthologies:

  Come Undone

  Three Times Lucky