Strife: Part Two (The Strife Series Book 2)

by Corgan, Sky

  Thankfully, the bus doesn't take long to show up. I bask in the air conditioning as I climb on board and ride with a smile on my face all the way to James' beach house. It's funny to think that less than a year ago, I would have taken this for granted. Simple things like air conditioning and food and a clean, safe place to live.

  The thought of getting off of the bus makes me cranky, but I know that it's a necessary evil. At least the walk isn't as far this time. Still, when I make it to James' door, all of the sweat that had dried on the bus has made a reappearance. I feel completely gross.

  I clutch my to-go boxes under one arm and ring the doorbell, keeping my face down and praying to God that James is home. Who knows what the guy does in the daytime. If he's not home, though, I'll have to hit him up tonight when I report in for work. That means I'll have to spend money at the laundromat to wash this dress. Or maybe I can just douse it with a bunch of perfume instead. Either way, James will probably be pissed that I'm wearing the same dress, but it's not really my fault that he made me spend all of my money on that blood test.

  I'm just about to turn around and head back to the bus stop when I hear the latches on the inside of the door being unfastened. My pulse quickens at the thought of facing James. Hopefully, he won't make me do something despicable for the advance. I certainly wouldn't put it past him.

  He opens the door wearing only a pair of boxer shorts and a sleepy expression.

  “Long night?” I tease, trying to set a pleasant mood.

  “What do you want?” he grumbles.

  “I wanted to report in.” I shift the to-go boxes back in front of me.

  James looks down at them. “You don't have to come report in. The client reports for you.”

  I remember the rule. I'm just stalling because he looks pissed. Maybe I shouldn't even ask. Getting that money is important, though.

  “Listen,” I cut to the chase. “You seem busy, and I don't want to waste your time, but I'm going to need an advance if you expect me to wear something different tonight. I literally spent all of my money on that blood test and this dress.”

  His eyes scan over my outfit in distaste and he huffs. “You're lucky I'm even going to pay you after coming in late last night.”

  Shit. This is exactly what I feared would happen. Day one, and I'm already fired. What am I going to do now?

  “I'm sorry about that. I was just so nervous.” I avoid his gaze, pulling the boxes closer as if they can protect me from his harsh words.

  “You're just lucky that Dmitri wanted you for the night. If not for that, I would have sent your ass packing.” He scoffs.

  “Dmitri?” The name doesn't ring a bell.

  “Yeah, the client. That guy you went home with last night. I sure hope you showed him a good time. He's very important and I want his repeat business.”

  “He told me his name was Brodie,” I mumble.

  James stares at me incredulously before shaking his head. “Anyway, for coming in late, I'm cutting your rate and your time by half for the night. Dmitri hasn't reported in on how long you stayed with him yet—”

  “I just got back from his hotel.” I nod behind me towards the bus stop.

  “How do I know that?”

  “Because I'm telling you.” My temper flares slightly. I can't believe this guy. Can't fucking believe him. What a douchey asshole.

  “You watch your tone.” He points at me, his finger practically in my face.

  I suck back the urge to completely lose it and go off on him. If I didn't need this job so badly, it wouldn't even be a question. My nerves are right at the edge and it's taking everything in me to keep from falling over.

  For several seconds, we just stare at each other. I know I have to keep my cool, have to submit to his authority over me. It's the only way I'm going to get what I need from him.

  “Listen, I'm sorry.” I deflate. “Please at least give me a little credit for showing up and attracting the interest of an important client. I want to make money for you. I want to make money for both of us, but we both know I can't do it with just one dress. What if Brodie, I mean Dmitri, requests me again tonight? Am I supposed to wear the same thing?”

  I highly doubt he'll request me again. I screwed up way too badly. More than likely, if he does turn into a repeat customer, he'll ask for another girl. It's a harrowing thought, but one I need to accept as reality.

  James runs his fingers through his hair, and I can tell that he's considering what I said. He glances at my dress again. “Fine, but only because I'm a generous man. You get two hundred and fifty dollars right now, and as collateral, if you don't show up for work tonight, you won't see a penny more for your efforts last night. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, sir.” Internally, I sigh in relief. Two hundred and fifty dollars will definitely get me through until payday.

  James takes a hesitant step back inside. “Stay right there, and I'll get your money.”

  I nod, waiting patiently while he disappears, closing the door behind himself. The sun has long ago risen from the horizon, and the sweltering California heat is starting to get to me. I hope he hurries up.

  Of course, he doesn't. I'm left standing there for a good ten minutes, readjusting my boxes of leftovers, which feel heavier with each passing minute. By the time he returns, there's sweat rolling down my brow. I force a smile though every muscle in my face is set in scowl mode.

  James holds the money out to me, then pulls it away when I try to take it from him. “You will be at work tonight or not a penny more. And you will be on time. If you're not on time tonight, you're fired.”

  If my hands were free, I'd mock salute him. The best disdainful gesture I can make at the moment though is to jerk the money out of his hand.

  “Got it, boss.” My face feels tight as I squeeze my eyes shut, and I know that the smile I'm wearing looks sarcastic.

  “And lose the attitude.” He points at me again. “Most girls don't get a second chance like this.”

  Second chance. I grunt as I turn away from him. If this is my second chance at life, then it feels like there's no hope for me.

  DMITRI

  I press my back against the door, listening to the faint sound of Alexis' footsteps as they pad down the hall, then the dinging of the elevator as it opens to her. I hate that I'm sending her back out into the world with nothing but a box of biscuits and leftover pancakes.

  Part of me wants to go after her, but I know there's no point. I have business to attend to, and I can't exactly keep her hostage. Besides, this is the life she chose and I need to let her live it.

  I push myself away from the door with a sigh and finish getting ready for the big day ahead. Soon I'll be meeting the cast and crew of Master of Payback, the movie that I'm staring in. More importantly, I'll be meeting Marie Overton, the woman of my dreams.

  Half of my goal for coming here was to woe and marry her. It's been all I've been able to think about ever since I found out she was cast as the heroine. Well, all I was able to think about until last night.

  I shake my head, clearing away thoughts of the melancholy blonde-haired beauty who shared my bed last night. It's time to get back to reality, to my real life. I didn't come to California to be a hero, I came to further my career, and that's exactly what I need to focus on. Further my career and hopefully find someone to settle down with.

  At thirty-five, and after a long career in the music business, I'm tired of girls just throwing themselves at me. I want to give chase like a man is supposed to. That's part of the reason why I'm so excited about meeting Marie. She's gorgeous, sophisticated, wealthy, and on my same level professionally.

  As I call for the limo to come pick me up, my eyes drift to the empty plates on the dining room table. Then they land on the cash still sitting there, and I feel a pang in my chest. Alexis didn't take the money. To be honest, I kind of thought she would when I wasn't looking. Now I feel bad for thinking that.

  I scoop up the bills and shove them back
in my wallet before heading downstairs. Even though I try to psych myself out for the business luncheon, I find that my mind keeps drifting back to Alexis. To the awkward way that her body moved in front of mine when I was trying to teach her to dance. To the sad song that she strummed out on my guitar. To the gorgeous silhouette of her practically naked body on my bed. That last part makes me feel randy, which is completely inappropriate when I'm about to walk into a room full of important people.

  Get it together, Dmitri. Out of sight, out of mind. On to better things. On to Marie Overton.

  ***

  The luncheon is every bit as hectic as I expected it would be. We're a large group, and so the producer decided to have the event privately catered for on one of the sets. It's a good opportunity to get familiar with everyone before we start filming tomorrow.

  I do my best to be friendly, shaking hands and trying to remember names. All the while, I scan the crowd for Marie, but she's nowhere to be seen. Apparently, no one is too worried about starting without her. We take our seats around a long set of tables that have been pushed together from end to end. The producer and director toast the hopeful success of the movie, and we start eating as if her absence doesn't even matter.

  Finally, after most of the festivities are over, I pull the director aside for some chatty conversation, easing into what I really want to know. “So, Marie didn't show up?”

  “Nah.” He brushes it off with a wave of his hand. “She's worked with a lot of the people here, so she probably didn't think it was necessary.”

  “I see.” I do my best to pretend like it doesn't matter. Inside, I feel kind of shitty. If she didn't think it was necessary, then it most likely also means she isn't particularly interested in meeting me. Definitely not as interested as I was in meeting her.

  “These things aren't mandatory. It's just something we like to do so that people aren't all nervous about meeting everyone on the first day,” he continues.

  I nod and smile, still stuck inside my head. I had hoped to ask her to dinner tonight. With that no longer an option, I'll have to come up with other plans. Either that or I could just chill at the hotel and practice my lines.

  “It's a great idea. I'm glad you guys put it together.” I look across the room at the producer, who is talking to some of my co-stars.

  “I'm glad we were able to hook you for the lead.” He places a hand on my shoulder. “I'm sure you'll do great.”

  “I'll try not to let you down.”

  “You won't.” He shakes his head as if the notion is silly and then walks away from me to continue socializing with everyone else.

  I'm used to being surrounded by strangers, keeping up a happy appearance and trying to give everyone equal attention. Even after all these years, though, it's still kind of draining. By the time the luncheon is over, I just want to go somewhere and unwind. Not back to the hotel. If I go back to the hotel, I'll just brood about how I'm going to have to wait until tomorrow to meet Marie.

  I stand outside of the movie set and call John to see if he wants to go have drinks. I'm kind of curious about what all went down last night when I was holed up in my room with Alexis. I got to see some of it when I went to ask James if I could steal Alexis away. Skin and sex and sin. Part of me still regrets not indulging in it, but I have to keep reminding myself that I did the right thing. Sex is only a temporary fix for the loneliness I'm feeling inside, a loneliness I was hoping to rectify by coming to California and meeting Marie.

  ***

  “You missed so much last night,” John tells me with an ear to ear grin. His beady brown eyes have dark circles under them, which is a good indication that he was out late.

  “I'm sure I did.” I sip my Crown and Coke, staring out into the street.

  There is a gaggle of girls gathered around, taking my picture from afar and pointing and giggling. I do my best to ignore them, praying they don't come to ask for my autograph. We've only been at this bar for about fifteen minutes, and the vast majority of that time has been spent talking to fans and signing autographs. I'm beginning to wish we would have gone somewhere more private.

  “The sex was amazing,” he keeps his voice low in case anyone is listening in. I'm sure people are listening in. They always are.

  “It looked like you were having a good time when I saw you last.” I crack a grin.

  “Oh, that was just the tip of the iceberg. The stuff we did. I fucked all of them.” He makes a sweeping gesture across the table with his hand. “Came in half of them.”

  My stomach instantly twists in disgust, thinking about what would have happened to Alexis had I left her behind. John definitely would have fucked her. She would have just been one of them. Faceless. Nameless.

  “Sounds like a blast,” I try to hide the dryness from my tone.

  “It was.” He lounges back. “I think I filled my sex quota for the month.”

  “I'm happy for you.”

  “Nah, that's bullshit.” He slaps the table, guffawing as if he just made some big joke. “A man can never have enough sex.”

  “No, he can't.”

  “What about you? How did it go with the one you took home?”

  “It was fine,” I sigh.

  “You don't sound like it was fine.” Concern fills his face.

  “It was. I've just had a long day is all.” I draw my hand to my brow as the flash from someone's camera blinds me momentarily.

  John nods towards the street. “Welcome to Hollywood, the place where you can't escape the spotlight.”

  I hate it here already, I think though I dare not say it. That's just me being bitter about everything that's gone wrong so far. I haven't even really given this place a chance. Just two days. So many more to go. Things will change. I have a long time for them to.

  “So what all did you do last night?” John wiggles in his seat.

  “What do you think we did?” I try to be nonchalant about it, not wanting to give away too much. If he thinks we didn't have sex, I'll never hear the end of it. This was his gift to me, after all.

  “Did you fuck her raw? Make her leave all bow-legged?”

  Again a sickening feeling takes over me. It bothers me that he's talking about Alexis in such a way. But it bothers me more that it's affecting me so much. I shouldn't care, but I do. Not only do I care, but I'm worried about her. Worried about what will happen to her tonight.

  “It was so good, I think I'll have her again.” I trace the rim of my glass with my fingertip, considering my own words. My night is blown anyway. There will be no date with Marie Overton, and if I don't have company, then I'm just going to think about both women all night, which definitely won't be fun.

  “That good, huh?” He nods, satisfied with my answer.

  “Yeah, that good,” I lie, wondering what in the hell is wrong with me.

  PEPPER

  James isn't going to be pleased with me. I still cheaped out on the dresses, only picking up two more at fifty bucks a pop. They're nicer than the one I wore last night, but I'm sure they're not up to his standards. If he bitches about them, I'll just counter with the fact that he didn't give me much money, and a girl still needs to eat.

  I sit on the bus, watching the buildings and streets and people pass by through the window. I'm happy that I got paid, but I'm still worried about tonight. Will the same thing happen? Will I flake out and end up being late and screw myself out of the job?

  Part of me thinks I can make the money I have left stretch until I can find another job, but I know that's not realistic. Besides, I need to keep focused on my goals—my dreams. Minimum wage won't get me there.

  I can do this. Last night proved that I can. Even if Brodie and I didn't have sex, I still showed up. That means I'm dedicated to this.

  Brodie. He lied to me. Lied about his name. What else did he lie about?

  It doesn't really matter. None of this matters except building a better life for myself. There will be other men, other liars.

  I try to forget
about Brodie, mentally preparing myself for the night ahead as I continue to stare out the window blankly. We pull up to a bus stop, and people begin to board. Two women sit across from me, their hands both full of shopping bags. Tourists.

  “I'm absolutely exhausted,” one tells the other with a sigh.

  “Me too, but it was totally worth it,” the other replies.

  “I can't believe we saw Dmitri Strife today,” the first one squeals.

  “Me neither. I had heard he was in town working on a new film, but I never in a million years thought we'd run into him.”

  “Run into him is a bit of a stretch.”

  “You know what I mean,” she sighs. “He's so dreamy.”

  “I never would have known that was him if you hadn't pointed him out.”

  “I'm good at spotting famous people. They all try to hide, but they can't hide from me.”

  They both laugh.

  “So, did the pictures you took of him turn out okay?”

  The name Dmitri peaks my interest though I don't think much of it until I attach the last name to the first and my mind places a face with the name. The second that it does, it feels like my heart stops beating. Dmitri. Dmitri Strife. Green eyes. Slicked back dirty blonde hair. Classic five o'clock shadow. Tattoos. Mega super stupidly-rich rock star, model, actor...with his own clothing line and fragrance and...Holy fucking shit.

  “Can I see the pictures?” I turn to the girls, completely unabashed.

  For a moment, they look at me like two deer caught in the headlights of a semi. Then they reanimate, smiling politely as the one with the camera flips through the pictures.