(Complete Rock Stars, Surf and Second Chances #1-5)

by Michelle Mankin

  “Knowing is half the battle.” I cut him off with a GI Joe cartoon quote, but Besille’s expression remained blank. He didn’t get it, like he didn’t get a lot of things. He might have a popular show with viewers, but he was not on the celebrities’ favorite list. “It’s his job to keep me safe.”

  From the corner of my eye, I noticed Cash flinch. But he had no right to that flinch. He was the one who insisted we keep things strictly professional.

  Continuing, I said, “He wasn’t trying to snub you. He’s only doing his job well and respecting my privacy, if he asked you to wait.”

  I gave Cash a nod, and he dipped his chin in return.

  “Why are you here, Mr. Besille?” I put my hand to my throat to hide my rapidly beating pulse. He exasperated me, even on his best days. I didn’t like being blindsided by his unexpected visit. “I’m not scheduled for the show until later.”

  “I don’t want you for that.”

  “So, what do you want?”

  “I want to do an exclusive with you. A two-hour one. A two-part special.”

  I shook my head.

  “Don’t say no before you know what I’m offering. A backstory reveal—growing up as Samuel Lesowski’s daughter, only you weren’t. Then backstage at the upcoming Firelight premiere. Afterward, a discussion about the allegations and what really happened with him that scared you so badly, you ran away.”

  “No. Not going to happen.”

  “It’s a chance for you to tell your side of the story. I guarantee you, your stepfather is planning a tell-all of his own.”

  My knees wobbled.

  Besille grinned. “You need me.”

  “I’m not that desperate,” I said, pressing my lips tight.

  “You want her,” Ernie said. “She’s the talent. Beautiful. The injured party. She brings in the big viewership, the sympathy, the support, not Samuel.” My bestie turned to me and gathered both my hands in his. “You do whatever you want to, darling. Don’t worry about Samuel. You can find another interviewer.”

  Besille shook his head. “She can’t find one at my level.”

  “I know how you are,” I told him.

  “And how’s that exactly?” He raised a brow.

  “The recent Rush McMahon incident comes to mind. You exploited his grief. Bought and used pictures of him without his permission. Facilitated someone betraying his trust.”

  Betrayal was a worry for every celebrity once they reached a certain level of fame where exploitation could equate to a large payout of cash.

  “I didn’t betray jack. Rush is a rock star. A public figure. He has fans who want information about him. I only supplied what they wanted.”

  True, and a warning to take to heart, should I agree to the notorious talk show host’s proposal.

  “You know what you’re getting with me.” Besille’s teeth flashed white against his spray-tanned skin. “I know what I’m getting with you. We understand each other without a bunch of bullshit. That’s a more honest exchange than most get in the type of offer I’m making, and you know it.”

  Chapter Six

  * * *

  “You’re not gonna do it, are you?” Ernie didn’t even wait until Besille cleared the outer door of the suite to grill me.

  It didn’t seem like Cash wanted me to do the talk show host’s special either. He was staring at the closed door, his jaw tight and his expression stonier than usual.

  But then again, what did I know about what went on inside Maximillian Cash’s head beyond that I wasn’t what he’d expected. Whatever the hell that meant.

  “I’m not sure what I’m going to do yet. I’ll give it some more thought. Talk to Olivia about it tomorrow.”

  “But . . .”

  “Let’s set further discussion about the interview aside.”

  Everyone in entertainment knew how Carter Besille was. But he was a necessary evil, like the fact that who you knew or who you had slept with could get you the part you wanted. More often than not, the casting couch trumped all paths to prime roles. Samuel had been right about that all those years ago.

  “I’m tired.” I rubbed my temples. They had started to throb at my tangled thoughts about the lack of morals in Hollywood. My stepfather had tried to warn me about them, which was ironic when he actually embodied them. Realizations like that made me a cynic like Samuel, when what I really wanted was to be was more idealistic like my mother and Fanny.

  “It’s been a long, exhausting day.” I glanced at Cash, whose expression had grown less decipherable, if that were even possible. “I still have a workout with Ollie to survive.”

  At least I wouldn’t have to be grilled for an interview while trying not to die. So I had that going for me.

  “I thought you swore off the Dungeon Master after that last torture session with the ankle bands and boxes.”

  “I did.” The next day, I was so sore, I’d barely been able to get out of bed. “Olivia insists. I’m several pounds over my ideal on-camera weight.” Drastic times called for kick your butt into shape by a sadistic trainer’s measures.

  I had to look my best. I had offers on the table, but that didn’t mean the roles were mine yet. I had to meet the directors and the producers, win them over by looking good and embodying the part, by being interested in their vision for the film, but I couldn’t appear overeager.

  To the outsider, the process probably didn’t make much sense, but I wasn’t an outsider. I had made my choice. Acting was my chosen profession, a place where I belonged. Hopefully, a place I still belonged, though I was suing one of the reigning monarchs.

  Hollywood looked after their own. Most of the time. Genuine talent like my stepfather had meant a lot of indiscretions could be overlooked. But Samuel had gone too far, and it wasn’t just me he’d hurt. Too many women had come forward and filed charges. We couldn’t all be ignored.

  “And speaking of that workout . . .” I forced my tense muscles to relax. “Ollie will be here any minute, but I need to talk to you some more first. Can you stay a minute?”

  “Absolutely.” Ernie gave me a nod.

  “Thank you.”

  I touched his arm and swiveled to face my bodyguard. I’d felt him behind me. His warmth, his cologne, his presence. It was less about not knowing how to act around him and more about not throwing myself at him.

  “Why don’t you take off for a while? I’ll be in good hands for the next several hours, and you’re overdue for a break.” I held my breath, anticipating resistance from him.

  “I thought we agreed on 24/7 round-the-clock protection.” Cash’s eyes narrowed. “About you not taking any chances.” His gaze slid to Ernie, and his eyes narrowed further.

  “We agreed on a lot of things.”

  Forty thousand for two weeks of work. It was the going rate for the full-time protection he was giving me. We had talked about a reassessment of my security needs once we cleared the first hurdle, which we had.

  Charges had been officially filed. Samuel had returned control of my accounts to me. Unexpectedly. Prior to my eighteenth birthday.

  A goodwill gesture? Because he was scared of the allegations?

  My attorney certainly thought so. Hart had never lost a case. But I wondered if he was overestimating his own ability and underestimating my stepfather.

  It seemed too easy. I knew Samuel. He had a countermove planned. And until he made that move, I wasn’t going to take any unnecessary chances.

  “I’m talking about you taking a well-earned break from me and all this madness. Get some fresh air for a while. Check in with your family.”

  “No family to check in on, ma’am.”

  “Oh.” That was news to me. But then, Cash knew practically everything about me, and I knew very little about him.

  “I don’t like it.” Cash crossed his muscular arms over his massive chest.

  My stomach fluttered at the memory of how good it had felt to be enveloped in those strong arms.

  “Whether you like som
ething or not doesn’t factor, though, does it? I mean, you don’t have to like my requests in order to follow them.”

  I was being bitchy, but this was the first time Cash had countermanded me, and it frustrated me. But mostly I was frustrated with myself for being weak where he was concerned. He’d rejected me, redrawn the boundaries, but there’s no doubt I’d quickly fall back into his arms if he offered me the opportunity.

  “I’m not talking about doing anything reckless while you take a break. I’m going to stay right here in my room with Ernie until Ollie arrives to take me to the gym.”

  “So you think a fashion designer is qualified to protect you?” Cash gave my bestie a dismissive glance before he retrained his immutable stare on me.

  “I’m more than what you see with your unimaginative eyes.” Ernie frowned. “More than what I do. You don’t know me, big guy.”

  I put up a hand in the air before this could get confrontational. “What he means is that he graduated from the police academy before he quit.”

  “Really?” Cash’s brows rose.

  “He’s capable, and he’s my best friend. I’ll be in good hands. I’ll be fine,” I insisted since Cash appeared unconvinced.

  “Oh, come on.” I stomped my foot and brandished my other hand. “It’s not like I’m going to run up and down Rodeo Drive shouting derogatory things about my stepfather with a target painted on my back.”

  I arched my signature brow, pressing my point sarcastically while using my high-powered artillery. “Have I ever acted reckless in your presence?”

  “Never.” Cash seemed reluctant to answer. Probably knowing doing so lent credence to my points.

  “Right.”

  Not that my bodyguard had known me very long. Only since Ash hired him to watch over Fanny and me back in Ocean Beach. But it was disturbing to note that had he actually known me longer, he would still be able to answer the question the same. Not only was I a people-pleaser, but beneath the surface glamour, my life was appallingly dull.

  “So, take the time I can give. You deserve it. I appreciate all you’ve done for me so far. When you return, we can reassess the terms of your contract, if you like, and discuss any unaddressed concerns you might have going forward. But for now . . .”

  I pulled in a breath and let it out slowly. When Cash merely glowered at me, I lifted my chin and threw down the boss card.

  “You will go. I’m the employer and you’re the employee, Mr. Cash. And it’s my determination that time off is what you need.”

  • • •

  “So . . .” Ernie paused for dramatic effect after the loud bang of the outer door signaled Cash leaving. “Can we talk now? Freely? About him?”

  “Yes.” I nodded. “Only I’m not sure exactly where to start.”

  “Let’s have a seat.”

  Ernie moved toward the couch, sitting where Olivia had been perched earlier. I dropped into the club chair beside him, curling my legs underneath me and carefully arranging the hem of my dress to cover my thighs.

  “Where the hell did you find a bodyguard who looks like that?”

  “Security You Can Trust,” I said.

  “Security you can’t take your eyes off, you mean.”

  “Stop.” My cheeks burned. “It’s not like that.”

  “Oh, please. Don’t even with me.” He wagged his finger at me. “My bestie meter has been on high alert since I walked in on you two.”

  “I was about to fall. He helped me down. Steadied me.” I paused internally at my simple explanation. It was the truth, but it felt somehow deeper and more profound.

  “If that’s all it was.” Ernie cocked his head. “What would have happened if I hadn’t come in when I did?”

  “Nothing,” I replied dully. “Nothing at all.”

  “You like him.” He reached over and tucked a loose strand of my hair behind my ear.

  I nodded.

  “Thought so. You look at him like he’s a carb buffet after an Atkin’s diet.”

  I blushed, and he tapped my nose.

  “Don’t deny it, darling. It happens all the time in situations like these. You’re isolated here together. He’s your employee, and it’s forbidden. Naturally, you’re madly attracted to him.”

  “Yeah. So what do I do? I feel so awkward around him.”

  “I say give in to the desire so long as you both know up front what you’re getting into.”

  “How do you mean?”

  “I’m suggesting a fling. A hookup without attachment.” His eyes narrowed. “But then you haven’t had one of those, have you?”

  I shook my head. The ends of my loose hair skimmed the bare skin of my shoulders.

  “You’ve played it safe up till now, but after all you’ve been through, you’re overdue for something unplanned, something not so serious. If it weren’t for the wretched circumstances outside of all of this, I’d say I was glad someone finally came along to inspire you to let loose a little. I honestly can’t remember the last time you were like this about a guy.”

  “Chris Hansen.”

  “That was just a publicity-contrived relationship for the miniseries, and you know it. You dropped him before you even went on to your next project.”

  “Not exactly. He wanted me to put in a good word for him with Samuel.”

  “Oh, Hollie.” Ernie grabbed my hand as my eyes filled. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “It’s embarrassing never being enough.”

  Guys were either like Cedric and wouldn’t risk Samuel’s ire, or they were only using me like Chris.

  I shrugged, trying to downplay how much it hurt. “Romance just isn’t for me.”

  “Romance is for everyone, darling.” Ernie took my hand. “Someday someone will come along who won’t give a shit who your stepfather is.”

  “No.” I shook my head, disagreeing vehemently.

  That would never happen. I’d known it for a long time now, and accepted it. Samuel had ruined everything.

  Chapter Seven

  * * *

  “Hold on,” I said, wheezing. “I have to catch my breath.”

  My lungs were on fire, and my spandex exercise shorts and sports top were sopping wet. Sweat stung my eyes. The mirrored walls of the hotel gym blurred in and out of clarity around me.

  “Ten-second rest.” Ollie shook his head. “No longer.”

  Beneath the worn brim of his TRAINER TO THE STARS emblazoned ball cap, his amber eyes narrowed and his full lips flattened disapprovingly. It was an expression all too familiar to me that said don’t you dare give up, Hollie, while at the same time seeming to imply that I could actually accomplish the insane things he was asking of me.

  “All right,” I huffed out, the only thing I could manage to say with my heart beating so fast.

  Every muscle in my body screamed in protest, yet because of that look, I bent at my waist and retrieved the coiled jump rope. Gripping the handles tight, I resumed jumping without tripping or stopping once—a miraculous feat for me—all the way until the timer went off on his phone.

  “Good,” he said with a small nod, which, coming from him was the equivalent of a gold medal.

  My lips lifting, I nodded back.

  He was tough, but a lot of personal trainers were tough. It was his understated methods that made me feel the satisfaction of pushing myself beyond my limits that I paid the big bucks for.

  Those methods made Ollie Sanders one of the most in-demand trainers in LA. He didn’t need to spend a single dollar on marketing. The toned bodies of his clients when they walked down the red carpet in slinky gowns and formfitting tuxes were all the advertising he needed.

  “So, tomorrow afternoon? Same time?” he asked, handing me a white towel to wipe the sweat from my brow.

  “Not tomorrow. I have commitments.”

  “All right. Then we’ll just have to double the time on the jump rope, do squat thrusts with weights, the row machine, and pushups on the next workout to make up for your skipped ses
sion.” He raised a brow.

  “Sure.” Not sure. “Sounds great.” Sounded like I was going to die. “Do you mind walking me back to my room?”

  “No, of course not.” He jogged ahead of me and pulled open the glass door so we could exit the gym. “You okay?

  “From the workout, yeah. I mean, I’m hurting like hell, thank you very much, but it’s just what I need to get back in shape.” I gave him a side glance as we moved side by side into the narrow hotel corridor. “I have a security guard who takes my safety very seriously. I promised I’d have someone stay with me until he returned from his break.”

  “Good plan.” Ollie pushed open the next door, propping it open for me to step through.

  Outside, the evening air was mildly cooler than it had been earlier. I gulped in greedy gulps of non-climate-controlled air, feeling like a canary sprung from its cage every opportunity I got to spend time outside the confines of my suite. Voices and splashes from a nearby pool accompanied us as we made our way across the lushly landscaped property.

  “I was sorry to hear about all of that trouble for you.” Ollie glanced over at me, his features shaded but the concern distinguishable beneath the brim of his cap. “You seem to be doing all right.”

  “Managing,” I said as we retraced our steps along the same sidewalk we’d taken to the gym. “Coping. Doing what needs to be done.”

  “A good deal more than that. You’re not backing down. You’re taking the fight straight to a very powerful, influential man.” He stopped at the end of the path. We had reached my secluded suite.

  “Yeah? Crazy, huh?”

  Moving closer to the unit, I slid my key from my pocket and could see our combined reflections in the sliding glass door. I looked terrible, sweaty and rosy-cheeked. My trainer looked like a cover model for Men’s Fitness magazine.

  “Crazy brave,” he said, and I shifted to more fully face him. “Like David and Goliath, biblically brave,” he added, and my eyes widened.