by Maggie Marr
“They’ll have to check each other out,” Choo declared as he scratched behind Bullet’s ears. “But then they’ll be best buds. Isn’t that what it’s like when you meet someone that has a similar personality to you? You hate them, and then you love them.”
Jackson placed his arm around Choo’s shoulder.
Choo’s gaze landed on me. “How did you know?” I settled into a chair across from Choo and Jackson. “How do you know which pups are perfect for certain people?”
My hand scraped over my jaw and I tilted my head. I looked at this happy family. Bullet on Choo’s lap and Jackson with his arm around Choo while Carson lay curled at Jackson’s feet. How did I know?
“I’m not sure it’s got anything to do with me. Most dogs know when they meet their people. And these two? Well, to me, they felt just perfect for you and Jackson, like they’d complete your family.”
Choo’s gaze left me and turned to Jackson, his eyes traveling over his face. “They’re a start.”
Jackson’s body stiffened with Choo’s words. His smile remained on his face, but a quirk of his eyebrows indicated that Choo’s comment was just a few words in a long ongoing conversation. I sure didn’t want any part of that discussion. Better to change the subject. “What time is the party tonight?”
Choo’s gaze came back to me and his smile widened. “Red carpet is at five.”
“You want me to do the carpet?” I shook my head and closed my eyes. Damn, I hadn’t considered this. I hated being trotted out like a show dog at Westminster.
“You need press and donations for Pawtown, and this is a red carpet event. Aside from the dogs, you’re the best thing going for Pawtown. You do need to remember that the public still loves you. If I have my info correct, you get offered films and TV pilots every year.”
“Don’t tell Angie.”
“Oh, believe me, she knows. Angie and I talk. A lot. Baby, you gots to get on these connections to keep Pawtown in the black.”
A sigh escaped my lips. My sister. While I wanted to be annoyed, she was right to reach out to Choo. Choo and Angie could both ask people for things in a way that made people want to help. Me? I hated asking for anything. I wanted to do everything on my own. If I had my way, I’d sit out in Pawtown, using all my own money to save the animals. But, according to Angie, that was a complete no-go.
“Then we’ve got the adoption event on Saturday. Left Coast has been billing the adoption event as part of their anniversary celebration. There will be a ton of celebs there to bring in the press and get the word out about Pawtown. I’ve got my fingers crossed that we’ll find lots of good homes for the pups, and lots of bucks for the sanctuary.”
Fingers crossed.
“Plus, you know Left Coast is writing a hefty check? You can thank one of my clients for that and Amanda’s half-brother.”
“Rhett Legend?”
Choo nodded. “I’m working with his sister, Sophia. She’s on the upswing.” His hand lifted like a jet taking off from a runway.
“Damn, that’s an adrenaline rush.”
“But, on the QT, our numbers indicate that her fans are looking for a way to beat her back a little.”
“Maybe she won’t do anything to give them a reason.”
“Oh, Baby.” Choo pressed his palm to his chest and cocked an eyebrow. “You do not have to give the public a reason for them to decide it is your turn to fall. They will find one. Besides, no one is perfect, and while I like Sophia Legend, the girl has a whole lot to learn. She’s still a little”—Choo pursed his lips together— “maybe a little full of herself?”
I took a deep breath. When the public loved you, staying humble was hard. People gave you anything you wanted just to be close to you. But when the public turned? A shiver raced down my spine. I remembered all too well the anger directed at me after the accident, and I had to admit it had been well deserved. But I’d never sought forgiveness.
Eventually, after a couple of years, the public wanted to know where I’d slunk off to and what I had done with my life. I didn’t envy Sophia Legend. Like any tumble, a fall from grace hurt.
“Trick, you know about the Legends, right? How Steve had this secret family with his housekeeper, and Sterling and Amanda only recently found out about their siblings?”
“I think I heard something about it.” I settled back against the chair cushion. Choo was a big gossip. He loved to talk about what was going on with everyone in town, which really made him the perfect guy for PR.
“Amanda is determined to turn that entire crew into one big happy family.” Choo shook his head. “I do not know how the hell she’ll manage to pull that off. I mean Rhett seems okay now, after he and Sterling beat the shit out of each other at Amanda’s wedding. And Ellen, one of the twins, is good with Amanda and Sterling. But Sophia?” Choo waved his hand. “The girl is fabulous to look at and she’s already done a cover for Cosmo, and she’s just shot for Vogue. I appreciate any woman who can work a pair of heels and a Versace but, puh-lease, she has some serious I-must-rule-the-world-and-you-will-love-me issues. I’m doing her PR and the public is this far from turning on her.”
Choo squeezed his fingers together so a millimeter of space showed between his thumb and his index finger. “She needs to find a charity to work with. Something that will make the public continue to love her.” Choo’s eyes widened and he pressed his hand to his chest.
My heart thudded. I knew where Choo was headed and I absolutely didn’t want him to go there.
“Pawtown! Oh my goodness, Sophia should be the spokesperson for Pawtown!” Choo said.
Bingo. No. Way. The last thing I needed was an overentitled spoiled brat. Nor did I need a model working with me and my dogs. Nope. Beautiful women were my weakness. The more damaged the better. Women and blow were my downfall. I needed to steer clear of this girl. She had to have daddy issues with a father like Steve Legend.
My face must have told a thousand stories as my gaze latched onto Choo. His high-pitched voice and saucer-wide eyes attempted to show surprise. Did he think I was buying his act? Jackson pressed his fist to his mouth to stifle a laugh.
“What?” Choo turned toward Jackson. “Why are you laughing at me?”
“I love you, Babe.” Jackson tilted his chin toward his chest. “Honest, I do, but Dillon is the actor in the family.”
Choo narrowed his eyes, but a smile broadened over his face. “Obvious?”
Jackson nodded. “Completely.”
Choo turned back to me with a sheepish smile. “Okay, yes, I did think of this match before and I may have mentioned your foundation to Sophia, whose star is on the rise. But she would be a great spokesperson for Pawtown and Pawtown would be a great cause for her.”
“A high-maintenance model-actress with issues, who is about to take a meteor-like fall through the atmosphere? This is what you’re trying to sell me?” The cool glass of my beer bottle pressed against my lips and the bite of beer passed through my mouth. “You know there are reasons I ditched L.A., and one of them was high-maintenance vapid women.”
“She’s really nice … and she’s a Legend.”
I couldn’t prevent my incredulity from showing and I looked at Jackson. “Notice he didn’t say anything about her not being vapid.”
“My man may know how to flip the truth but he absolutely does not lie. Sophia is”—Jackson paused as he searched for the right words—“enamored with her fame right now.”
“Riiight.” I drew out the word. My chest tightened. Anyone who’d ever been followed, recognized, or graced the cover of a tabloid remembered the addictive sensation of being recognized. Fame, like any addiction, quickly turned. You began to crave the attention and the spotlight. You started feeling needy and worthless and jealous of any other a-hole that graced the cover of a tabloid magazine. The aftereffects of fame could make you feel like shit. “The higher you fly the farther you fall.”
Jackson nodded. “You got to have pretty strong roots to keep yourself tied to t
he ground when fame hits you full force.”
“Amen.” Fame had almost stolen my life. My fame and my bad behavior had caused a whole lot of hell for me and my family. Money, fame, and luxury can’t save you, but they could sure destroy your life. Or, in my case, lives.
“Plus we all know how low maintenance the Legend family is.”
“Sterling and Amanda aren’t so bad.”
“You forget, I did a year of TV with Steve Legend when I was fourteen. I remember what Steve’s like. He was the guy who introduced me to bourbon. Not to mention the blow he always had stashed in his dressing room.” I tilted my beer bottle. “There were always a lot of gorgeous women in and out of his trailer … and I thought they were running lines.”
“Sophia would be a perfect match for Pawtown and Pawtown could be just exactly what she needs.”
I took a long pull on my beer. Not exactly what I wanted, but I didn’t need to burst Choo’s carefully blown bubble tonight. We had an entire weekend to get through, and this discussion could wait.
Chapter 4
Sophia
“Sophia, would you get off the damn Instagram?”
“What? How can I not take pictures of my rock-star brother in love?” I snapped another pic of him and posted it to all my social media accounts. “I do have to tell you, though, all this lovey-dovey stuff is going to ruin that bad-boy rocker image you’ve cultivated your entire life.”
“Fuck the image,” Rhett said. “I’m happy the way I am.”
“Okay, that is just a little bit too much for me to fathom. You? Happy? The apocalypse must be near.”
“Very funny. Now, will you put the phone away and go sit your ass down? We need to get started.”
“Right. You’re happy Rhett with the rest of the world, and cranky Rhett with me.” I put my phone in my purse, pulled out my compact, checked my lipstick and hair and then exited the backstage area. This little concert, celebrating the thirtieth anniversary of Left Coast records, had all the heavy hitters in Hollywood in attendance. I could definitely handle Rhett’s pissy attitude just to be here. Besides, he didn’t really think I was a pain in the ass. How could he? He loved me. Everyone loved me. How could they not?
I made my way from the backstage area to the table reserved for our family. As I approached the table I noticed that Ellen was missing. Where was she? She was always running late and she was probably rushing from the library right now.
“Excuse me,” I said to the guy sitting in my seat. I plastered my trademark irresistible smile on my face. “I believe this is my seat.”
This guy was all expensive tailoring and Italian shoes, but he seemed a little old school. I would bet he came from old money and had attended private school. He’d probably been fed his baby porridge with a silver spoon. He was too uptight for my tastes.
“Your seat? Are you kidding? I paid a ton of money for this seat. You’re out of your mind.”
Anger built in my chest. This guy obviously had no idea who I was. How could he not know who I was? The entire world was finally discovering my talent and me. He must have been living under a rock for the last six months.
“I hate to sound cliché,” I said. “But do you have any idea who I am?”
“Really? We’re in Hollywood? Who isn’t somebody here?”
Good point.
Everyone was someone in Hollywood. Except for this guy. Who the hell did he think he was sitting in my seat and refusing to get his ass up? He was hot, yes. Arrogant, most definitely. My type? Not even a little bit.
“No, sir, really, this is my seat. I am Sophia Legend. Daughter of Steve Legend, sister to Amanda, Sterling, and Rhett Legend.” I flipped my hair over my shoulder. “Of course there’s our sister Ellen, too, but she’s just a doctor. No big whoop there. Now, please move. As you can see, this table is reserved for the Legend family.” I pointed to the tiny little reserved markers on the table that also had our family name.
“You’re Sophia? Steve’s daughter?” He flashed me a killer smile. Those teeth were all natural—something you didn’t often see in this town.
I nodded and smiled. Maybe this good-looking guy, who looked as if he should be yachting with the Kennedys, didn’t live under a rock after all.
“Never heard of you.” He turned his attention back toward the stage. This was entirely unacceptable. I wanted to stomp my foot and make a scene but instead I marched over to the event coordinator, Marnie, who was standing at the far end of the room.
“A very, very rude man has taken my seat and he has refused to move.”
She followed me toward our table at the front of the room. We passed by a bunch of sound guys who were still working on the setup.
“There,” I said and nodded my head toward the blonde-haired, blue-eyed guy who looked like a model for Abercrombie and Fitch.
“That guy? That guy is Mr. Warren.”
“Mr. Rude is what you should call him. Yes, Mr. Warren, whoever he is. He’s sitting in my spot.”
She turned to me and her jaw fell open as though perhaps I had been dropped on my head. “I’m sorry, I can’t ask Mr. Warren to move.”
“What? Why not? This is the Legend table and I am a Legend.”
“I understand that, Miss Legend, honestly I do. But are you aware of who Mr. Warren is?”
“A big jerk is who he is.”
“I don’t think so,” Marnie said. “In fact, due to all his philanthropy he is definitely no jerk.”
“Philanthropy?”
“Mr. Warren has donated half of his net worth to charity.”
“Right, okay, that’s absolutely grand. What are we talking? Like a million, maybe five?”
“Three hundred.”
“Million?” I cocked an eyebrow. “And that’s half?”
Marnie nodded.
I pressed my index finger to my lips and decided to change tack. “No worries, then, I’ll take that empty chair.” I gestured to a couple of empty seats on the other side of the table.
Some scruffy guy was sitting over there. He wasn’t bad looking and he actually seemed oddly familiar … hmm? Party circuit? Clubs? I wasn’t sure where I’d seen him before. At least he dressed well, even if he didn’t appear to own a razor. His eyes traveled over me. That feeling was familiar. Everyone stared at me. But this guy? I met his gaze and instead of being embarrassed about ogling me he tilted his head and smiled.
A jolt pulsed through me. I reached for the back of one of the empty chairs and he stood and pulled it out for me. His expression with his cocked eyebrow and crooked smile was somewhere between disdain and amusement. I sat and he pressed in my chair and then returned to his seat.
I leaned toward him. A thrill of excitement tingled through my body and trailed along my skin. “Excuse me, do I know you? You look familiar.”
“Nope.” He leaned back in his seat and lifted a bottle of beer to his lips.
A beer bottle? At this table? At this event? My eyes traveled over him. He was wearing Armani, although the suit was a bit dated, totally classic though. He had great teeth and well-kept hands. My gaze landed on his feet. Boots. Scruffy, well-worn boots. My gaze darted back to his face. I just couldn’t place him. My chest tightened and my breathing shortened—there was something about this guy that caused a thrill to race through my body. My nipples tightened beneath my dress.
“Then, if I don’t know you, why are you smiling at me as though we do know one another?”
“We know a lot of the same people.”
How coy. How droll. How annoying. Incredibly attractive, it was clear that he turned me on. A weird sort of aura hovered around this guy. Was he a no-name hanger-on who was trying to appear as though he were a member of the A list? I came to the conclusion he was just a poseur. I’d come across a few people like him since my career took off.
“And how do we know the same people?”
“We are both—”
He was interrupted by a booming voice. “Oh my fucking goodness, is that Trick
Williams?”
Daddy’s voice burst across the room. He was big, he was loud, he was amazingly famous and he didn’t care who he interrupted. “I thought you were fucking dead!”
“I’m just living in Idyllwild, which is probably the same thing.”
Daddy laughed and threw his arms around the guy, embracing him as though he were his long-lost son. Daddy pulled back and held him at arm’s length, his eyes roaming over him from head to toe. “Damn, you’re looking good for a guy who’s held together by metal pins and stitches. It’s good to see you. Shit, man, I thought you were a goner for sure. How the hell is Angie?”
Color drained from the guy’s face but his smile remained. Trick … this guy’s name was Trick Williams? He had to be in the industry, or had been. That would explain the Armani suit, the confidence; it even explained the shit-kicker boots. Stitches and pins? How did Daddy know this guy? He was way too young to be one of his cronies.
“Angie is good. She’s helping me run the foundation. I’ll tell her you asked about her.”
“Tell her? Forget that.” Daddy waved his hand and shook his head. “I’ll see her tomorrow. Heard she’s coming to the big Pawtown event.”
Trick nodded. Daddy sat in the chair between us. Pawtown? I took in a long deep breath. So this guy, Trick, was involved with the charity Choo wanted me to be a spokesperson for? Great. Choo had probably sent him to Left Coast’s Gala to try and convince me. I leaned toward Mr. Gazillionaire across the table. He still wasn’t paying any attention to me, but he seemed pretty locked onto Daddy.
“Doll, did you know you’re sitting beside a living legend? Trick is the only man to get the EGOT before he was twenty-four.”
An Emmy, a Grammy, an Oscar and a Tony all before he was twenty-four? That Trick Williams? I pressed my lips together. Of course his face was familiar—I’d been one of twenty million teenaged girls who had drooled over this heartthrob all through my adolescence.
Daddy slid his gaze from me and back to Trick. “Trick, have you met my daughter Sophia?”
