Chapter Forty-Eight
* * *
Time became a noose that strangled me. I was so entrenched by fears I’d never addressed—fears I didn’t have a clue how to address—they choked me every time I thought about confiding in Max.
So I began to avoid him. Staying up late. Getting up early. Working constantly.
Hours became days. Days became weeks. Weeks became months, and somehow, we arrived at the end of filming the Valentine movie with my worst fears remaining secret.
“We have to go.” I set down the flat iron I’d used to smooth my hair and tried to move around Max.
“We don’t have to do anything.” He grabbed me by the upper arm and turned me toward him.
The irritated glint in his eyes barely fazed me, probably because it wasn’t a glint anymore. Now it was a constant glow of disapproval.
“You have a breather tonight. Let’s stay in. We need to talk.”
“We’re always staying in.” After work, weekends, away from the demands of my job, those were the times we were in sync.
I tugged my arm free, and he let me. I might be the chief avoider, but he had his way of avoiding too.
“C’mon.” My cell dinged again in the living room. I exited the bedroom and scooped it off the end table to scan the text messages. “Everyone’s already there.”
“It’s not an official function.” He moved behind me.
“It’s the wrap party.” I turned to look at him. “They’re about as official as an event can get. If I don’t show, I’ll get a reputation for being standoffish.”
I couldn’t afford any negative publicity. After I completed the upcoming indie film in Chicago, my calendar was wide open. Not a single additional job offer had come in. My social media accounts were pretty much stagnant for growth. Samuel had gone silent. My phone rarely rang except for Fanny, my agent, and Zachary.
“Stop running.” Max reached for me. You’re always in motion. It’s exhausting trying to keep up with you.”
His long fingers were warm on my skin and so welcome. I closed my eyes, fighting the desire to give in, knowing if I told him all my ugly truths, I’d lose him.
But you might already be losing him.
Not yet. That was my constant inner refrain each time he said those three little words. And each time I failed to return them, the embers of certainty about us dimmed a little more in his eyes.
“After tonight.” I opened my eyes and forced my lips into a smile. “We’ll take a week off. Fly to Chicago early before filming starts. Sightsee. Be tourists. Just you and me.”
“That would be good,” he said carefully, studying me closely enough to unnerve me.
“I try to be good. I’m trying to be who you need me to be.” For once, I held his gaze instead of avoiding it.
“You shouldn’t have to try to be anything but yourself.”
Just be me and he’d accept me? Keep loving me? Not possible. Not the way I’d had love modeled for me.
“We’d better get going.”
“Okay, Hollie.”
Max didn’t call me shug as much anymore, but I didn’t fixate. I kept moving. Problem was, the way I did it didn’t seem to propel me forward.
We argued on the elevator ride down to the garage about the pros and cons of using the car service rather than taking his truck to the club. I gave in. He said he wanted to drive, but I guessed it was more that he wanted to leave the party when he was ready.
Up in the cab on my side of the truck, I stared out the window as he drove. The hustle of constant movement along the route we took to the trendy West Hollywood club was familiar, and that consistency soothed me. I also marveled at the outside world that I’d seen so little of over the past months. We had wrapped up the movie with close-ups, interior shots, and fine-tuning of scenes we’d already filmed on location.
When we arrived, Max handed his keys to the valet and jogged around the hood to open my door. He was a better view to marvel at than the scenery in his worn jeans, scuffed work boots, and the 2 ROWS BACK T-shirt that I’d commandeered as a sleep shirt. Constant washings due to my use had faded the color and shrunk the cotton. It clung to his wide shoulders the way I did when he was making love to me.
“Why are you blushing?” he asked with his hands on my waist as he swung me out of the cab.
“No reason.”
“You never blush for no reason.” He backed me into the closed door, caging me in with his strong arms and staring down at me with his sky-blue eyes.
“I was thinking of you.” I lifted my chin. “How your muscles bunch under my grip while you’re inside me.”
“Hollie.” He groaned, lowering his head.
Flashes erupted all around us just as he was about to kiss me. Disappointed, I ducked my head into his chest.
“Better get you inside,” he said in my ear so he could be heard over the din of photographers calling my name. Ushering me forward into the interior of the club, he said, “Forgot how crazy that is.”
So had I, and I wasn’t prepared for the fallout from his abrupt switching of roles from boyfriend to bodyguard.
“Hey, stripper,” Zachary said, the crystal chandelier overhead adding more sparkle to his normally flirty gaze than usual. “You’re late. What was the holdup?” He glanced back and forth between Max and me. “Or should I ask who?”
“Who.” I took a step back and latched onto Max’s arm before returning my gaze to my costar. “I keep telling you Max and I are together.”
“Yeah.” Zachary ran a hand through his glossy hair. “Just never saw the evidence until now. Thought maybe you were just holding me off.” He turned his gaze to Max. “Good work snagging her.”
Max didn’t respond. He seemed to be waiting for me to say something. I just wasn’t sure exactly what.
Before I could figure it out, a group of giggling women surrounded me, my stripper entourage from the movie. They pulled me farther into the darkened nightclub. A quick glance over my shoulder made me frown. Max and Zachary weren’t following. They were exchanging words. Ones that had them scowling at each other.
I was at the bar with my crew and a round of drinks on the way when they finally rejoined us. Max threw his arm around my shoulder. Zachary threw his around the platinum-blonde beside me, the understudy for my part.
“Here you go, ladies.” The shirtless bartender slid a tray of assorted cocktails in front of us, returning my card.
“You drinking?” Max asked, looking surprised as I signed the receipt.
“Cranberry juice.” I set down the pen and brought the tumbler to my lips.
“What’ll you two gentlemen have?” the bartender asked, grinning widely as he tucked away the receipt. Having seen my hefty tip, he was obviously eager to earn another.
“Stella,” Zachary said.
“Jameson. Double. Neat.” Max slid his wallet out. “I’m buying this round. Least I can do since I’ve got the girl.” He and Zachary exchanged a heated look.
“Dance with me,” I told Max, hoping to distance the two rivals to ward off further tension.
“Don’t do that kind of dancing.” He shook his head at the lit-up floor where a dense crowd of people bounced to the heavy techno beat.
“I do.” Zachary set his beer on the bar, stretched his arm across my understudy, and held out his hand to me. “C’mon, stripper mine. Let’s show them how it’s done.”
“Is it okay with you?” I asked Max.
“Go ahead. Don’t mind me. I’ve got my drink.”
“And I’ll keep him company. Just until you get back,” the blonde rushed to add when I narrowed my eyes at her.
Perplexed by Max’s acquiescence, I frowned as Zachary led us toward the dance floor. Maybe this was Max’s way of showing me he didn’t feel threatened so long as I was acknowledging him.
Comforted by that thought, I didn’t worry, well not overly, as the blonde moved closer to Max. Stepping onto the lighted platform, I lifted my hands in the air and turned toward Zachary, wh
o was already doing some kind of complicated maneuver.
We danced for a couple of songs. It was so crowded, we got thrown into each other several times.
“Think I like it right here.” Zachary put his arms on my shoulders and moved closer.
I reached up to remove his hands, wondering yet again about his girlfriend, when someone familiar tapped him on the shoulder.
“Cutting in, Flynn,” Cedric said.
“Go away.”
“Up to the lady.” The former teen heartthrob looked at me, lifting a questioning brow.
“It’s okay,” I said as the current song stopped and a slower one started.
“Get lost, loser.” My childhood crush gave my current costar the middle finger before he put his hands on my waist. “You’ve been avoiding my calls, Miss Wood.”
“Been a little busy, Mr. Wells.”
“No one’s that busy.”
“It’s a Valentine film.” I gave him my signature brow.
“Maybe.” His lips flattening, Cedric drew me closer. “Did you at least read the script I sent you?”
“I did.”
“And?”
“It’s good.” It was actually incredible. A plane crash in the snowy wilderness. Two men, both former lovers of the female lead, and a lot of desperate choices for survival.
“It’s freaking phenomenal, and you know it.”
“Maybe.”
“Can’t pay you the big bucks. Reimbursement of expenses only. Everyone involved is taking it in the teeth financially.”
“I can’t afford that kind of hit right now.”
“You can, and you should. It’s the kind of role that could define your career.”
“You have to say that. You’re the producer. You mortgaged your future to get it made.”
“Olivia told you.”
I nodded.
“Well, she’s right. And you’re perfect for the lead. Say yes and it’s yours.”
“You don’t want me to read for it first?”
“Nope. I’ve been with you on set. We have chemistry that can’t be faked. You and me, we’ll rock this thing. Shake up the cronyism network and then some, if we can get a decent distributor for the box office. Audiences and critics love these types of films.”
“I love them.” Heavy character development. A redeeming love storyline. Women would flock to see it in droves.
“So you’ll do it?”
“I’ll think about it.”
“Think quick. You’ll have to fly out and start filming soon.”
• • •
“What’d the guy from the airport want?” Max asked when I returned to him.
“He offered me the leading role in a film he’s producing.” I frowned at the trio of empty tumblers beside Max on the bar.
“He wants to nail you. Same as the other guy. Same as every other guy here. All staring at your tits and ass in that dress.”
“They can stare.” I moved closer, and my frown deepened when the alcohol fumes hit me. “But they can’t have me. You do.”
“Not so sure of that anymore.” His expression turned stony.
After Cedric, I’d danced with the girls for nearly an hour. I was sweaty and hot, but I suddenly felt cold.
“Well, you should be sure.” Beyond not saying the words, I’d given him no reason to doubt my fidelity.
“This party sucks. Let’s go home.” Max stumbled as he grabbed my arm.
“You can’t drive like you are.”
“I know. I’m going to give you the keys.”
“I’m not comfortable driving that big truck.”
“It’s not that hard.” His eyes hardened. “Sometimes we have to stretch beyond what we think we’re capable of to get where we need to go.”
“Max.” I shook my head. “Not now. Let’s not get into this here.”
“Where then? You avoid the topic at every turn. You’re avoiding me. How are we going to fix this when you won’t stick your neck out for me, even a little?”
“I have. I do. No one else has me the way you do.”
“It doesn’t feel like that to me, Hollie. The entire planet has more access to you than I do.”
“They have only what I allow them to see.”
“Same exact thing could be said for me.”
“It’s a mine field inside my head. I’m not letting anyone forage around in there. It’s too dangerous.”
“Bullshit. You’ve walled it off. Your heart too.”
“My heart’s in bits of broken pieces. You have the only salvageable part.”
“If you’d let me, we could work together to repair the rest.”
“You don’t want the pieces. They’re not useful for anyone. Take what I’m giving you or—”
“Are you giving me an ultimatum?”
“No, Max. I’m not. I don’t want it to be an either-or. I just want us to continue.” I wanted what he’d alluded to earlier. “I want you to accept me, to accept us the way we are.”
Chapter Forty-Nine
* * *
“Wake up, Hollie,” Max said.
“No.” I buried my head deeper under my pillow.
“You’re not an ostrich. Your appointment for the deposition is in ninety minutes.” He yanked the pillow away. “Get up. Get a shower. It’s time to get going.”
Cracking open my eyes, I glared at him. Wasted ire, since he didn’t see it. He was on his way out of the room.
“Coffee will be waiting for you in a to-go mug.”
I threw back the covers and slid out of the bed. Padding to the shower, I noticed the concrete floors weren’t as cold under my feet as they’d been months ago when I first moved in. Nor was I as self-conscious about sleeping naked. But one thing hadn’t changed in all the months since I fled home.
My illusions from my childhood remained shattered.
After finger combing my sex-tangled hair into a messy ponytail and avoiding my reflection in the bathroom mirror, I took a quick shower and got out. I was pulling on a NAMASTE emblazoned sweatshirt over my cropped top when Max returned to check on me.
“Going like that?” His eyes widened.
“Not likely to be photographed.” And I was likely to be emotional, so a makeup-free face and comfort clothing were a must.
But as I’d dug the yoga clothing from the bottom of my drawer, it hit me hard how long it had been since I’d meditated. Not once had I taken out my mat since my sister and I separated and Max came back into my life.
More than my life and my childhood illusions had been ruined by Samuel. My faith lay in tatters too.
“I have directions and a code for the parking garage at Hart’s office.” He rocked the travel mug as if it were a carrot dangling on a string. “You can drink your coffee on the way.”
I took the mug and slugged back a mouthful. “I’ll have it finished by the time we reach the truck.”
“Don’t doubt it.” He chuckled low. The sound of his amusement reminded me of the night before.
I reached for his hand as we exited the condo. “Thank you for last night.”
Max turned to me, his expression cautious. “What about last night?
It had been intense at the wrap party. I understood why he wanted clarification. “The making-up part.”
“I liked that too, shug.” He tucked me into his side and pushed the button to call the elevator.
“Only liked?” I gave him the arched brow.
“Loved it all—the first time fast, the second time slow, and the third time laughing and making plans for Chicago.”
One time had led to the next. It had seemed as though our fight and the mention of an ultimatum had put it in both our minds that as good as things could be between us, they were also fragile. Or at least, that was how it felt to me on the eve of the deposition I’d been avoiding for months.
“Hey, don’t be scared.” He tipped my face up to his on the way down to the garage.
I didn’t deny my fear. My hands were c
lammy. My pulse thready. My knees wobbly. And I still had Max beside me and we hadn’t even left the building.
He wouldn’t be allowed at the deposition, not that I wanted him to be. Speaking of that night in generalities nauseated me. Breaking it down into specifics was going to wreck me.
I swigged more coffee as I moved alongside him, my footsteps much more rapid in order to keep up with his long-legged strides. He helped me up into the truck and squeezed my thigh once before closing the door and rounding the hood.
My eyes burning from the pressure of tears, I watched him, grateful for him, appreciating his strength and his rugged good looks, but not reveling in them. I was too scared.
I needed Fanny. She’d grown up in the battle zone our home had been. If anyone could understand, it would be her.
The artificial light in the garage gave way to the brightness of the sun, the city streets to the highway, the valley to the hills, before Max spoke again.
“It’ll be okay.”
I shook my head, my fingers curling into tighter fists on my lap. I glanced at the empty travel mug in the cupholder, now regretting the liquid that felt like acid in my stomach.
“It will. I know you don’t think so right now. But keeping secrets inside messes you up.” He spoke reflectively, probably thinking about how he’d kept his gambling from me. “Once they’re out, you’ll see that you built them up into this huge crisis point in your mind, when in comparison to all the good in your life, the bad is relatively small.”
“No way.” I gave Max a sharp look. “Not small.”
“You don’t know. If you share with me first, maybe—”
“No. Don’t ask me to talk about it again. Once today with the lawyers. Once in the courtroom. Then never ever again.”
Turning from him, I blinked the tears away.
• • •
“Relax, Miss Wood.”
In the private conference room, Andrew Hart straightened his sky-blue tie. The color reminded me of Max’s eyes. He’d looked so sad when I had to leave him to wait for me in the outer office.
“You’re not the one on trial.”
I gulped a dry swallow. That wasn’t a comforting thought. No one crossed Samuel Lesowski. I was out-of-my-head crazy to.
(Complete Rock Stars, Surf and Second Chances #1-5) Page 112
