Falling Star (Beautiful Chaos #2)

by Arianne Richmonde

  “Star, baby, I care for you,” he whispered.

  I was still coming but confused—my brain a haze. “You said you loved me, Jake,” I whispered back into his mouth.

  He mumbled, “Really, did I?”

  What?? What the hell game was he playing? I snapped back to Planet Earth—my climax after-shocks dying down, his new words a total 180 from twenty minutes before. “Jake you told me you loved me!”

  His lips tilted into a smirk and he finally let go of his cock: the “tool” that had completely undone me and turned me into this vulnerable wreck.

  “Star, baby, the first lesson any woman needs to learn is that if a man says he loves you while he’s simultaneously coming, you shouldn’t believe him.” He winked at me as if what he’d said was cute and funny.

  I pushed him off me—or tried to. He was strong. “What are you saying? That what you told me was bullshit?” I turned my head to the side so his lips were no longer on mine, and pressed my hands against his chest, attempting to lever him away from me.

  “I must have meant them in the heat of the moment but—”

  “You asshole!” I shrieked. “Get off me!”

  “May I remind you that I was innocently having a shower and you stepped right in to join me, Star. Stripped naked and wanton—this was your idea, not mine.”

  I hated to admit it, but he was right. “Give me the conditioner and get out of the shower, asshole!”

  He chuckled again, and kissed me on the forehead, not taking my tirade seriously. “This is my shower! My trailer,” he said. “You’re my guest.”

  “Then you should treat your guests with more courtesy. Just hand me some conditioner for my tangled hair and I’ll be gone.” My heart was pounding through my chest. Fury. Disbelief. But at the same time the most pronounced anger I had was toward myself. Jake Wild was a player. Everyone knew that. He himself had admitted he was a sex addict, and that I should keep well away from him. And most importantly of all: Hellooo-o, Star?? What were you thinking? HE HAS A GIRLFRIEND!

  “I don’t have any conditioner, I’m sorry,” was all he said. Not, Baby, I didn’t mean it, of course I love you, but sorry because he didn’t have any goddamn conditioner?? ASSWIPE!!

  “Get out of my way, you worthless piece of . . . of . . . director,” I hissed at him, scrambling for the right words. “You’re in the wrong profession, Jake. You should be an actor instead. You had me pretty convinced, earlier, that you had real feelings for me, but it was your dick that was talking, not you. I suppose I should thank you for at least being honest.” I pushed him out of the way, shoved open the shower door and grabbed a towel. My hair was a matted mess—it was evident that, unlike his acting skills, his hair washing was less than professional. Ugh!

  “Star, I never made you any promises—where’s all this coming from? You knew the score. I thought you understood!”

  “Oh I understand, alright. I understand loud and clear, that you’re a two-timing jerk, that your ego is the size of the Empire State building, and that as long as you lie to women, you’ll never find happiness. I’ve been a fool to come anywhere near you and I regret it.” My words of irony hit me hard in the gut. “Come anywhere near”—yes, I’d come, alright. Big-time. And it had been the best sexual experience of my life. Tears welled in my eyes. He’d broken my heart with his I love you bullshit that I’d believed like the gullible fool I was. “This won’t be happening again,” I added bitterly, “I can guarantee you. I don’t like liars.”

  “It wasn’t exactly a lie,” he said, trying to grab my wrist, but I shook him off—it was too late—the damage had been done.

  I grabbed two more towels so there was nothing left for him to dry himself with, wrapped one around my hair, another over my shoulders, and one around my waist, and stormed out of his trailer, leaving my costume behind. We were done with the prison scenes—he could have my outfit as a memento of what a douchebag he’d been.

  Mom was right. Men, all of them . . . are LYING BASTARDS! And I thanked my lucky stars (no pun intended) that my virginity was still intact. Close call.

  A very, very close call.

  THAT WAS IT! That was the second and last time I’d fall for Star’s prick-teasing game. What had I been thinking? Her cock-teasing had reached epic levels of professionalism. And each time I had fallen for it, hook line and sinker. I’d bloody well had enough!

  I sat there humiliated, water dripping all over my trailer—Star had taken all the towels. I grabbed her T-shirt from the floor to dry myself but started swooning with the scent of her instead. Like Al Pacino in Scarface with his coke, I uncontrollably shoved my nose into the fabric that had been touching her skin and inhaled—her sweet sweat, her fragrance—and instantly missed her, my head spinning into a dreamy reverie and wishing I’d just gone along with the “love” story. Why not? Most men did that. Serial monogamy. Fucking one person after another, under the guise of seriously dating each partner in a “forever” relationship, every single time. People even did it with marriages. My dad, for instance. “Committing” a hundred percent, then bailing if it didn’t work out. At least I was being honest.

  Or was I?

  I’d really bungled things. What had I been thinking getting Cassie involved? She was a sweet girl and didn’t deserve this. I was using her for my own ends and I knew—breathing in Star’s T-shirt once more—that having sex with Cassie would be like jerking off to a Playboy centerfold. I’d feel nothing except physical gratification. If I fucked Cassie my mind would be on Star. Was I in love with that prick-teasing bitch? I couldn’t be—I hardly knew her! Yet I was obsessed with her. Possessed by her, and it was doing my head in. I needed to take my power back and be in control. I wasn’t used to these feelings: my stomach like a cement mixer when she touched me, my brain a constant “Starry” Milky Way, thinking about her twenty-four-seven. I sat there, still wet, and fisted my hard cock, memory-flashes of it in her lush, warm mouth, her lips wrapped tightly around me, only twenty minutes before. I frantically jerked myself off, trying to find some relief, knowing that yes, actually—those words I said may well have been true: I was fucking well falling in love.

  With a prick-teasing, manipulative, control-freak virgin:

  Star bloody Davis.

  I CAREENED STRAIGHT into Biff as I stomped away from Jake’s trailer (okay, not really stomping as I was barefooted).

  “Star, you’ll catch a cold—let me take you home.”

  “Home?”

  “Yes, back to Jake’s. You’re done shooting for the day.” Biff knew my schedule better than I did.

  “I need to go to my own home first,” I said. “I need to see the contractor.” I had no intention of ever going back to Jake’s. So he could torment me with his ‘real’ girlfriend? Not a chance. I thought I could perhaps stay in the maid’s apartment above my garage, as my house would be a dusty mess; if not, I’d come back to my trailer for the night—or a hotel—anywhere but Jake’s.

  Biff winced. “Sorry, Star. I can’t do that. Jake would be furious with me—I could get fired. Unless Jake asks me directly, I would never go behind his back.”

  “Never mind, I’m going back to my trailer now to sort out my hair.”

  “Let me come with you.” Her deep voice made me remember that she was a lesbian and I was clad only in towels. “I’m fine, Biff, I’ll see you later.”

  Back in my trailer, I emptied half a bottle of conditioner on my hair and ran a comb through the knots. I had another shower and washed that lying son-of-a-bitch “right out of my hair,” singing the song as I did so, and then flung on a long, flowing hippy dress. Nothing sexy or provocative, although I did put on black matching underwear and some black thigh-highs. Sexy underneath to make myself feel good, but chaste and pure on the outside—enough of this flirting game—it was landing me in trouble. No more games in general. The only person I was hurting was myself.

  I called Janice.

  “Hi Star, what’s up?”

  “Come and
get me from the lot—I’ll let them know at the gate you’re arriving.”

  “Is everything okay?”

  “No. I need to get the hell out of here and go home, but they’re all spying on me. Maybe you can divert their attention and we can work out a plan.” I heard a knock at my door. “Yes?”

  “Star? It’s me, John—just checking you’re okay. Jake has instructed me to drive you home.”

  Big John the bodyguard. Jake’s bodyguard who may have even been eavesdropping. Who knew? Maybe my trailer was bugged. “I’m busy right now,” I shouted out—“hold on, Janice”—and then, “I’m about to take a shower, John.”

  “I’ll be ready in fifteen minutes,” John said.

  “Make that one hour,” I yelled through the door—“I want to go over my lines first.”

  “Okeydokey, I’ll be right here, waiting outside.”

  Waiting outside? Was he just going to sit there without budging? I needed to escape, go to my house—there was no way I’d spend the night at Jake’s, with or without my own bed. Biff could sadly not be bribed—well, maybe I could have pushed her, but poor thing, it wouldn’t have been fair. There was no way Big John would let me waltz off with Janet. I called Leo on my cell. Jake trusted him.

  “Leo,” I said sweetly.

  “What’s up, babe?” he said, in his thick Russian accent.

  “Are you still here on the lot?”

  “Sure am, what can do you for?” I loved the way he got expressions slightly wrong.

  “I don’t want Big John to drive me to Jake’s.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because,” I whispered, “at times he looks at me in a . . .” I tried to come up with an adjective that wasn’t too incriminating—“in a flirtatious manner and I don’t feel comfortable with him.”

  “I talk to Jake—this is bullshit—he’s your bodyguard!”

  “He’s not my real bodyguard. My guys have been put on hold for the duration of the movie—the producers didn’t trust them—wanted to hire their own.”

  “So what do you want me to do? Tell Jake?”

  “No, don’t say a word—and please don’t mention what I said about Big John to anybody, I don’t want him to lose his job. All I want is for you to drive me to my house.”

  “Your house has builders, no? Under construction?”

  “It’s being remodeled. I want to go and talk to the contractor.”

  “It’s six p.m., Star, I doubt he’ll be there, still.”

  “Please, Leo.”

  “Okay. I’ll call Jake,”

  “No!”

  “Star, I have to ask Jake first. He’s my boss. Could lose job.”

  I groaned. This was a nightmare!

  “Look, I’ll call him on my other cell right now.”

  “He’ll say no, Leo.”

  “I’ll handle it. I can be your bodyguard, just for today.”

  CASSIE SAT THERE in my trailer, tears in her eyes. I felt like such a bastard, but what could I do?

  “First finding out I’m off the job and now this,” she sniveled—“this whole trip has been such a waste of time, not to mention mind-fuck, Jason.”

  I held her hand. I was still wet from the shower. “I’m sorry, Cass, Brian said it was a union thing. They had to have someone union. I have no idea why they didn’t second guess that. I’m sorry you’re off the job.”

  “Well obviously you’re not sorry or you wouldn’t be sending me home!”

  “There’s no point you coming all the way to the Badlands to twiddle your thumbs, with nothing to do except stare at the scenery all day.”

  “It’s about us, Jason, not the bloody job. You wrote me such a beautiful email. I really believed you wanted to make it work between us. ‘Two minds alike,’ you said, ‘two needs make one whole’, you said.”

  I bowed my head in shame. Unpardonable behavior—messing with her heart like this. “I’m sorry, Cass.”

  “You said it was what you wanted.”

  “I did want it, Cass. I swear I did. But we’re such old friends it—”

  She waved away my excuse. “You just don’t fancy me. Course you don’t. Why would you when you’ve got beautiful babelicious starlets waiting in the wings?—just that . . . well . . . I thought you’d grown out of that and wanted a real relationship based on more than just sex.”

  “You deserve better than me, Cassie. Far better. I’d probably be unfaithful.” Probably. What a joke. I wondered if she could smell Star on me now. I was no good for any woman, least of all someone like Cassie, who was pure and good, kind and honest. “Cass, about that flat in London—the loft you went to see in Bow that you said you liked . . . I’ll buy it for you.”

  Cassie’s mouth pressed into a tight hard line. Then she said, “I don’t want your money, don’t you get that?”

  “You’re one of my oldest friends, Cass. Friends help each other out. I want to do this for you. It would make me feel better.”

  “It’s always about you and what you want, isn’t it? You can’t buy love and friendship, least of all as a way to alleviate your crap behavior.”

  “I’m sorry, Cass, I just want to try to make it up to you somehow.”

  “You’re phone’s ringing. Pick it up,” she said.

  “It can wait,” I answered quickly, the bastard in me trying to give her some respect. This “break-up” before we’d even “made-up” was ridiculous—the poor woman had only just arrived in LA. My eyes cut a glance at Cassie’s face; her slim lips, her too short hair, and I secretly wished that she were Star. That Star was the “good girl” who’d save me from my philandering ways, who’d rescue me from myself. I wished that, somehow, Star and I could make it work.

  “Pick your bloody phone up—if you don’t, I will,” Cassie barked.

  I was still wet. Naked, Star’s T-shirt covering my crotch, hoping Cassie wouldn’t notice Star’s prison uniform and her panties tossed on the floor. The panties that I’d probably take to bed with me later.

  Cassie slid the buzzing phone across the table at me. I looked at it. It was Leo. “What?” I said. “Make this quick.”

  “Star wants to go home,” he said down the line.

  “So let her go—she’s done for the day.” Star, Star, Star! Her name was driving me fucking crazy. What sort of a name was Star, anyway? I didn’t even know her real name and here I was obsessing about her. Bloody prick-teaser! Heat rolled through my gut in a nauseous wave. Fury. Despair. Horniness. Desperation. “Look, Leo, I don’t have time for this—you deal with it.”

  “But she doesn’t want John—”

  “Make an executive decision, for fuck’s sake it. You deal with her, I’m busy!” I pressed the red button, cutting Leo short. Cassie deserved better than to sit here listening to Star Davis’s whims and fancies. “Sorry, Cass, where were we?”

  But it was too late. I followed Cassie’s gaze to where Star’s prison uniform lay on the floor, together with her ivory silk panties.

  “What was I thinking?” Cassie said, a fresh tear sliding down her cheek, her eyes fixed on the flimsy knickers that were an excuse for underwear. “I must need my head examined. So dumb! I’m such an idiot! Why did I fall for your bullshit, Jason?” She stood up, stared at me for a second and then slapped me hard across the face. I felt a ringing in my left ear and a sharp sting, almost relishing the pain.

  “Go ahead, Cass, do it again, or punch me this time, I deserve it—go on. Punch me in the face, it’ll make you feel better.” I meant what I said. I sat there, helplessly clutching Star’s T-shirt to my groin, but not being able to chase after Cassie—naked as I was—as she stormed out of my trailer yelling:

  “You selfish arsehole! You know what? You need psychiatric help. You will never be happy until you cure your sex addiction.”

  Her prophecy was right. I reflected on my shitty ways for a second and felt like a victim of my manhood. Men are wired this way. Eyes > brain > dick . . . or . . . brain > eyes > dick. Bypassing higher centers
of reason. Or maybe it was Star’s smell. Whatever, she had a hold on me. She’d intoxicated me—bewitched me, even. I wanted to control my one-track mind but I couldn’t. I felt so bad for Cassie, but all I could think about was Star. Until she was completely mine, I knew I’d go insane.

  “I need a SAA meeting,” I muttered to myself, getting up and grabbing some gym clothes out of a duffle bag. “I need to go running and share—get my sorry arse under control. Or rather, Dick Bastardly under control.”

  I’D SEEN CASSIE bounce into Jake’s trailer earlier like she owned it, and that was all I needed to compound the humiliation I felt, and the fiery anger that had been building up since he and I parted ways. She was his girlfriend, and I was the piece of fluff on the side—luckily I’d put a stop to things before Humiliation, with a capital H, could take hold completely.

  Jake Wild was a self-centered, egomaniac who got his thrills by having multiple women in love with him at one time. He needed his ego massaged daily to make himself feel special. Why I had fallen for his charms, I had no idea, when it was obvious he would never change. He was a damaged Hollywood casualty and, of all people, I should have known better than to play with faulty goods.

  Leo was driving as I sat in the front seat of the studio car with my bare feet on the dashboard, singing along to the music. Ironically it was that song, “A Sky Full Of Stars” by Coldplay. Skye full of stars. Skye/Star—it was if we were interchangeable. I wanted to think that Jake saw me as a sky full of stars, thinking only of me and his movie—his movie and me—but I knew that wasn’t so and took a deep breath, willing my wishful fantasy away.

  “So Jake didn’t even care, huh?” I asked Leo, “didn’t mind that I wasn’t going home with John?”

  “He was busy. Irate. Told me to make executive decision. I thought we could have bite to eat, Star. Are you hungry?” He turned to me and flashed his Russian megawatt smile, accompanied by a wink.

  “Sure,” I said. I was hungry, as it happened—eating had been the last thing on my mind earlier, when I was focused on shooting such an intense scene.