by J. J. McAvoy
Child Star: Part 1
J.J. McAvoy
“There's a constant flow of child actors. It's kind of funny to watch the new crew come through. I think, ‘You poor little things. You're going to have to struggle for a long time.’”
~Tina Yothers
Prologue
Noah
One day I was going to wake up, look at myself in the mirror, and see a decent guy. The type of guy some girl would love to take home to her parents, who could smile on cue, say nice things, take her out. A guy who could make love and not just fuck.
That was not today.
Today, I was the same old son of a bitch I’ve always been. The type of guy fathers were scared to death of allowing their daughters near because they’d most likely be in the same position as this receptionist, with her skirt hiked up around her waist, her panties somewhere on the blue marble bathroom floor with her ass pressed up against the stall wall as I thrust deeper and harder into her throbbing pussy.
“Oh…Oh—go!” Her mouth dropped open and her eyes shut as she gripped the top of the stall.
Hearing gasps and whispers from the other side of the door, I grinned as I buried myself in her without mercy, gripping her thighs so hard I knew they would bruise. Leaning forward, I kissed her lips. My tongue slipped into her mouth, tasting more of her. She panted against my lips, pulling my hair and holding on to me as her whole body shook.
At my limit, with one more long, deep stroke, pleasure rippled through my whole body as I finally released.
“Oh…my…God,” she managed to say between breaths.
As I pulled out and let go of her thighs, her legs buckled. She leaned on to the wall to brace herself as I slipped off the condom and flushed it before fixing myself.
“You were…”
“Thanks, you mind moving?” I nodded to the door she was currently blocking.
Her brown eyes widened as though she was shocked I didn’t want to have a conversation about how great I was in a bathroom stall.
“Oh, yeah.” She got up quickly and tried to fix her skirt, but with the tear I made up the side, there was no hope. Retrieving my wallet from my back pocket, I pulled out two hundred and held it in front of her.
Her face lit up bright red. “I’m not—”
“Megan,” I read her nametag. “I won’t think any more or less of you.”
In fact, I won’t think of you ever again.
After placing the money in her bra, I opened the stall and stepped out to see my own green-blue eyes staring right back at me. Looking away, I moved toward the door as she called out to me.
“Wait…can I at least get your autograph?”
Turning back partially, I smirked and gestured between her thighs with a nod. “You already have it.”
Again, her face reddened. Without another word, I stepped out. Sure enough, not only was my bodyguard waiting, but so was Austin, my agent and manager. Austin was much shorter than the average man and had a crooked nose and black hair peppered with gray. He was also old enough to be my father and glared at me with his arms crossed over his suit jacket. Before he could speak, the door behind me opened. She froze for a second, allowing my bodyguard to step forward, putting a 240-pound wall of muscle between us. She said nothing before turning and rushing down the hall, presumably to do her job.
“Satisfied?” Austin frowned.
Never.
“I’ll be in the car—”
“The director asked us here because he personally wanted to ask you to be in this movie, Noah.”
“I don’t care,” I said. Reaching into my jacket pocket, I pulled out a cigarette and started to walk toward the exit across the red-carpeted floor. It was almost midnight in one of the most prestigious hotels in Hollywood. One would have thought that at least here, I wouldn’t have to deal with “fans.” But as I walked, I could clearly hear them.
“Oh my god! Is that Noah Sloan?”
“No way? Where?”
“He’s so fucking hot.”
“When did he get out of rehab?”
“He was in rehab?”
Daniel, my bodyguard, handed me a pair of headphones, but I refused them.
Who gives a fuck what they think anyway?
Ignoring them was simple. I just kept looking forward, and soon enough, everyone and everything faded into the background…like always.
The wind howled across me when I stepped outside to my waiting car. I was blinded by the flashes in my face.
“Noah, what drugs were you on?”
“Noah, are you clean now?”
“Noah, is it true you’re being sued?”
“Noah—”
Daniel pushed them back with his body in order to hold the door open for me as I slid inside to the black leather seats. Cracking the tinted window only slightly, I lit my cigarette and filled my lungs with nicotine before I blew the smoke from my nose, resting back against the seat. The cameras clicked rapidly until Austin sat in the front passenger seat, slamming the door. I didn’t have to wait long for his bitching.
“You just got out of rehab this morning. Do you know how hard it has been to get you any scripts, let alone a meeting with a goddamn director, Noah? You are the most self-sabotaging person I have ever met! The bad-boy angle we can always work. But I wanted to try to make over your image before you went and started fucking receptionists in hotel bathrooms. She’s probably blabbed her goddamn mouth to every last person with ears. What is wrong with you?”
Good question. Maybe it was this city. The longer I stayed, the worse I felt, but oddly enough, I wasn’t sure if anywhere was better than this. What do normal people from normal cities do?
I’ve been acting for twenty years. I’m only twenty-seven now. My childhood was spent hopping from one movie set to the other. There were no rules, there were no limits, and I could get anything I wanted the moment I asked. I was the cute, loveable, Noah Sloan on Mother’s Rules when I was seven and then on Kid Genius at twelve. At thirteen, I won my first Oscar. At fifteen, I was the number-one teen heartthrob in America, and at seventeen, when I got caught “cheating” on my then-girlfriend, fellow child star Amelia London, I became Hollywood’s new bad boy overnight. That label got less and less acceptable the older I became. But I didn’t care. So maybe the problem with me? Was just me.
“Noah!”
“What? Goddammit, what is it now?” I snapped, finally paying attention to Austin, who now had a thick script in my face.
“When I say ‘you have nothing left,’ Noah, I mean you have nothing left if you don’t do this movie. So ask yourself: do you really want to stop acting? If so, don’t bother reading it. I’ll let him know,” he replied, throwing the book onto the seat beside me.
Stop acting? As if it was really that easy. If I didn’t act, who would I be? The more I thought about the question, the less I liked the answer.
I was nothing. If I didn’t act, I was nothing. It was just that simple.
Reaching over, I lifted the script, reading the title.
Sinners Like Us.
This, I could do.
Chapter One
Amelia
I’m selfish.
I’m a liar.
I’m immature.
My life feels like it’s spinning out of control every single day.
I’m a child star. Birthdays have always meant something different to me. For normal people, getting older is a good thing. Sixteen means caring about surviving high school and learning to drive. Eighteen means becoming an adult. Twenty-one is legally getting drunk. They were all milestones for normal people. But I wasn’t normal. The first time I went to high school, I was nine and acting on the TV series Kid Genius. I learned to drive on the set of Street Kings when I was f
ourteen. And the first time I got drunk was in Mexico, when I was fifteen, but that was due to an accident on set. I wasn’t legal, but no one batted an eye.
I’ve spent my life moving from movie set to movie set as the cute, adorable¸ America’s sweetheart—Amelia London. But today marks my twenty-fifth birthday, halfway to thirty. I am now officially too old to be called “cutie,” and on top of that, my career is about to come to a flaming end if I don’t do something drastic. At least that’s what my agent keeps telling me.
“Amelia. Amelia?” My agent of twenty years, Oliver Cole, who I would swear to my last breath looks exactly like Hugh Jackman with his thin-framed glasses and left ear piercing, snaps his pale white fingers in front of my face.
“Sorry, I was thinking,” I sighed, leaning back into his office chair and gripping the script in my hands.
“I know.” He walked around his desk to stand in front of me. “This is a huge leap. If you do this movie, no one will ever see you as sweet-as-pie Amelia again. Which means if you screw it up, you’ve also burned the last bridge you have to stand on.”
“Thanks, Ollie,” I said sarcastically. I could always count on him to tell me the truth. No one else did.
“I’m serious, Amelia. This movie is everything you aren’t. Hard, dark, exotic—”
“I get it, goddammit. You don’t have to hammer at me anymore.” I frowned, flipping the page.
The very first line I saw was, “Damon ties Blair’s hands to the bed then proceeds to kiss down the space between her breasts.”
“You sure this isn’t a porno?” I asked, not able to take my eyes off the screen directions.
Ollie reached for his desk, grabbed a red book and handed it to me. “It’s based on this novel series, Sinners Like Us. The first book was ranked number one for thirty-two weeks, and fans are dying for a movie. Midnight Empire Studios just acquired the movie rights. This is going to be big, Amelia. Imagine Twilight, The Hunger Games, Fifty Shades…it’s your golden ticket, if you get the part.”
“If?” I frowned. I missed the days when directors fell all over themselves just to get me to do a few lines in their movies. It felt like I was starting over as newbie. My name meant almost nothing now. Sometimes worse than nothing.
“If.” He nodded, folding his hands. “The director and I go way back. I was able to throw your name to the top of the pile. They will see you before they see anyone else, so you have to get their attention.”
How?
I’ve never done sexy or dark.
“Maybe,” I whispered, looking down the lines, “maybe it’s time for me to just take a break? I could go to college and—”
“And always have people come to you and say, ‘Weren’t you that girl from Kid Genius?’ Or ‘What have you done lately?’ It’s either this, or you settle for run-of-the-mill sitcoms. Or worse, you appear on a ‘Where Are They Now?’ segment, maybe have people applaud you for not having a mental breakdown yet. If that’s what you want, just say the word—”
“No!” I almost jumped out of my seat. “I’ll work on this. I’ll figure it out. When is the audition?”
“Today at four.”
“Ollie!” An hour? That’s how long I had to become a sexual vixen? Had he lost his mind?
“Amelia, this is the hottest book of the year. This movie already has 2.6 million followers, and there isn’t a cast list up yet. People are so excited that Sinners Like Us has been trending since the movie announcement went up. Do you understand? This train is waiting for no one.”
“I’ll be there.” I had no idea how this was going to work out, but I would be there. “Is there anything else?”
He paused, and I knew that look.
“It’s not about my mother, is it? Because, Ollie, I’m not going to pay her another—”
“No, the male lead for this has already been cast.”
Jesus, they really were not waiting to start with this movie. “Okay who is it? I’m kind of hoping it’s Bradley—”
“Noah Sloan.”
“God fucking damn it,” I groaned, putting my hand on my forehead.
“Language,” he said, and I fought the urge to flip him off. America’s Sweetheart, Amelia London, didn’t curse. She didn’t party or get in trouble. She was one of the “good ones.” Or at least that’s what my image portrayed, but some days I’d just like to say fuck it all, man.
“I know you and Noah Sloan have a past—”
“That’s putting it mildly,” I scoffed. “Didn’t I read that he got out of rehab like three weeks ago? And yet he still spends more time partying than acting now anyway. How did he get this role?”
Ollie didn’t say anything, lifting up his tablet for me to see what looked to be an online poll. The title above it read, “Who’s your dream Damon Shaw?” Noah’s profile had 89% of over two million votes.
“This movie is all about selling and fulfilling fantasies. Noah’s reputation actually worked to his advantage here. So whatever resentment you have for him? Let it go.”
Everyone thought Noah Sloan was sinful, drop-dead-sexy, and God’s gift to women with his dark brown hair and striking eyes. But whenever I saw him, I just remembered the boy who broke my heart into a thousand little pieces like it was nothing. We had spent our childhood acting as “brother and sister” on the set of Kid Genius before his character had to “move away” when our “parents” got divorced. There were many reasons for the split, but the rumor was that the producers and his actual father didn’t get along. I later went on to date him when were teenagers, but that only lasted a few months before he went cheated on me…publicly.
My first kiss? Noah.
My first time? Noah.
My first heartbreak? Noah.
Now this?
I was sick of him. If I never saw his face again, I wouldn’t care.
“Is this movie really big enough for two child stars trying to make a comeback?” I muttered more to myself than to him.
True to style, he told me the truth: “It better goddamn be, because you’re the one out if otherwise.”
“I’m going to read over this script as quickly as possible now before you tear whatever’s left of my ego.” I got up, grabbing my Chanel bag. “Where is the audition? Is it at the Midnight Empire production house?”
“Yes. I already have the driver waiting out back.” He leaned back, pushing a bottom on his phone to call the driver.
“Honestly, Ollie, he doesn’t have to come around back. It’s not like the paparazzi are waiting for me—”
“I know one of the Kardashians is here, and it wouldn’t look right if you were to get caught coming out with them. We need to protect your good-girl image until this role has been locked down.”
Just like that, I watched the last shreds of my pride and ego burn to ashes. I’d won an Oscar at fourteen. I had at least three dozen screen credits under my belt. And a Kardashian was more important than me. Are you fucking kidding me?
“Wish me luck,” I muttered, walking out the door. I couldn’t afford to lose my cool now.
The driver was already waiting. Following, I put a smile on my face for anyone who looked my way. I’d been playing the good-girl role since the day I turned eighteen. It felt like everyone was waiting for me to lose my mind or go wild at some party, but honestly I didn’t have the time. Ollie kept warning me the end was near, so I spent most of my time trying to get any role I could. If I wasn’t doing that, I was resting at home. I was boring. That seems unbelievable to some people, but the truth is, my idea of a fun time was going braless, sitting in sweats, watching Netflix, eating like a pregnant woman, and then working out in tears for eating so damn much.
“Thank you,” I said when the driver opened the doors to the Mercedes for me. Sliding into the back seat, I kicked off my Jimmy Choos, wiggling my toes before opening the script.
Sinners Like Us.
The story centered on two criminal lovers, Damon Shaw and Blair Hawthorne, who are basically world-class
con artists and thieves. They take whatever they want whenever they want, including each other. Stealing for Damon and Blair is like foreplay. They are constantly fighting with each other both physically and emotionally. In the end, they both end up settling their difference in various sexual exploits, many of which involve Damon tying Blair up. They were one fucked-up couple, and they had millions of readers eating out of their hands. Blair Hawthorne was bold, sexy, and dangerous, and on top of that, she loved to be dominated.
So she was nothing like me.
I wasn’t plain, but I wasn’t Aphrodite, either. I fell right in the sweet spot of “acceptable.” I had dyed my light brown hair to a darker almost-black color now, but my eyes were still as blue as the ocean. My trademark was the few little freckles I had on the tip of my nose. The more I read of the script, the more I wondered, how the hell am I going to be able to do this?
Closing my eyes, I tried not to think about the fact that the only other scripts waiting for me were something from ABC Family called Living It Up with the Family and, even more insulting, a reality TV show for my mother and me.
I’d rather die.
“Ms. London, we’re here,” the driver said to me as he pulled to a slow stop in front of the glass building on Central.
“Thanks, I’ll be out soon.” I slipped back into my heels, grabbing my bag as I went. It was so hot in Los Angeles that the moment I stepped out, I swear it felt like my skin was melting.
“How can I help you?” the receptionist asked as I walked across the polished floor. In the center were the letters “MES.”
“Amelia London for…” I looked at the script, “…David Zane and Company.”
The receptionist grinned at me. “Amelia London? I used to watch Kid Genius and Spellbound all the time. I’m a huge fan.”
“Thanks!” I said cheerfully. Spellbound was the TV series I did in my teens where I played a witch. I hated those days more than I care to explain. “So where do I go?”
“Twentieth floor, third door to your right.”
Nodding, I checked my watch and headed toward the elevators. I still had twenty minutes, but I preferred to be early.
