Star (Beautiful Book 5)

by Lilliana Anderson

  My mother waves him off with her hand. "I'll tell you later, Tony," she says before turning her attention back to me. "What's going on?"

  "Nothing," I say as I stand and get ready to head to my room. “I just think Nicholas Sparks is right. Life and love can be devastating and there isn’t always a happy ending.”

  My father is the one who sucks in his breath like I just swore at him. “How can you say that? Your mother and I are living proof.”

  “Dad, not everyone finds what you two have, and that’s ok. You’re the lucky ones. I’d love to find what you have. But the reality is, it’s just not always the case for most people. I’m twenty-six years old, and I’m yet to find one man who wants me the way I want to be wanted. All I’ve found so far, are good looks and shallow hearts. This whole soulmate search could take the rest of my life, so I have to be happy with who I am when I’m on my own.”

  “What has happened to you?” my mother repeats.

  I wave my hand as if the action will clear my words from the air. I’ve obviously said way too much, and I really don’t want my parents worrying about me when I’m just working through how I feel. If it wasn’t for Jonathan’s attentions, I’d probably be feeling quite happy seeing Brad while living my life with plenty of time to work on my career. Logically, Brad and his lifestyle works for me and my lifestyle.

  But then there’s Jonathan, and to be honest, I don’t like the way he makes me feel. When I’m around him, I feel like I’m running at top speed while standing still. It’s as if his body has a pull on mine and it frightens the hell out of me because logically—there’s that word again—I know that if I give into him, I’ll end up getting my heart broken. I’ll be that girl who hopes it’ll be different this time. That he won’t live up to his reputation, and that I am that special someone who makes him forget other women exist. It’s a pathetic fairytale. One I don’t want to live out again, because experience has shown me I’ll end up sitting around in my pyjamas, crying over a movie star, just like I did over Marcus Bailey.

  I can’t be that person again.

  Moving over to my parents, I lean down and kiss them both on the head. “Nothing is going on. I’m just tired. It’s been a long day And I’m going to bed.”

  “Sleep well, sweetheart,” Mum says, looking a little disappointed in my lack of whimsy. I offer a smile then head to my room where I lie in bed, wide awake, thinking about two different men and their pros and cons. The more I think about it, the more one far outweighs the other.

  Be logical, Sandra….

  Eighteen

  Jonathan

  “Explain to me why I have a request from Voyeur for the agreement between you and Marnie,” Owen grumbles over the phone.

  “Because I asked Sandra Haegan to write an article explaining my side of this mess.”

  “Sandra Haegan. What is it with you and this woman? You seem to have gone stupid ever since you met her. Why in God’s name aren’t you keeping your head down like I told you?”

  “Because I’m losing offers left, right and centre over this sex addict bullshit. It’s time to tell my side of the story.”

  “What happened to waiting it out? Marnie has gone quiet. You should too. Let it go away on its own. Even Hugh Grant recovered from his sex scandal, and he was arrested for it.”

  “Maybe I don’t want to be associated with men who pay hookers to suck them off in a car.”

  He lets out a grunt, and I’m not sure if he’s in agreement or perturbed. “Regardless, I’m not giving it to them. It can do more damage than good.”

  “I need it to prove to her I’m not a cheater.”

  “Prove to her?”

  I wince. “To everyone—the world.”

  “Don’t bullshit me, kid. You’re doing this because you’ve got a boner for this woman and she doesn’t like your reputation.”

  “So what if I am?”

  “Give your interview without evidence.”

  “Owen.” My complaint falls on deaf ears when the line goes dead. “Shit.” I drop my phone on the couch next to me and scrub my hand over my face. This is my fucking life.

  So what if I want to prove something to Sandra? It’s my business to prove, and if I’m happy hanging my dirty washing out for all to see then that should be my decision to make. I’m sure I have a copy of that agreement somewhere.

  Cooper and Jayden walk in to find me sitting in the centre of a paper storm. I’ve gone through every drawer, cupboard and box that might have what I need. After two hours of searching, I’m starting to think it’s in my apartment in LA.

  “What the hell, bro,” Jayden says as he drops the scripts he’s been reading on my dining table. He’s really taking this assistant thing seriously and provides me with a summary and his thoughts on each one. He’s been going through a script a day. Says he likes them better than books because he doesn’t have to read any filler.

  “What is this mess?” Cooper crouches in front of me, picking up a bunch of old fan mail I found in an archive box in the back of my wardrobe. They’re from when I was still on Home & Away. “Taking a trip down memory lane?”

  “Nah. Just looking for some paperwork,” I explain, taking the letters off him. I drop them back in the box they came from and scoop up the rest of the mess, tossing it inside as well.

  “Want some help?” Jayden asks.

  “No. It’s not here. I’m wasting my time on a fool’s errand to be honest.”

  “A fool’s errand?”

  “Yeah.” Closing the lid of the box, I push it aside with my foot and lean back with my hands on the floor. “I’m being a fucking idiot.”

  “Over?”

  “Sandra Haegan,” Coop offers with a know-it-all look on his face.

  “Who the fuck is that?” Jayden looks from Cooper to me.

  “His latest barbie doll,” Coop says.

  “The one in the papers?”

  I kick the box again. “She’s not a fucking barbie doll,” I snap, whipping my foot around to kick at them too, but Coop jumps back and I completely miss Jayden. They both chuckle.

  “The news about you and Marnie splitting has barely hit, and you’re already jumping into something else,” Cooper says. “Why don’t you just enjoy the final years of your twenties as a single man?”

  “Because I’ve always lived like I was single, and I’ve finally met a girl who’s got me all twisted up in knots—”

  “And she won’t even give you the time of day,” Coop finishes for me.

  I get up from the floor and sigh. “She’s dating some chef. I had to trick her into seeing me by setting up a fake press junket.”

  “And how’d that work out for you?”

  “I got her to agree to write a tell-all about me.”

  “She won’t date you?” Jayden lifts his brow, I can see his opinion of me lowering by the second. He thinks the best part of being me is my ability to pull women. Hearing that I’m desperately coming up with reasons to see one when she doesn’t want to see me is seriously lowering the height of my pedestal.

  “Nope.” I let the word pop as I bounce my shoulders and move into the kitchen.

  “You’re tryin’ too hard, man,” Cooper says, beating me to the fridge and pulling out three beers. “It’s been two weeks since you met the woman. Back off a little.”

  “I back off, she keeps dating this chef then they become exclusive and I have no chance with her.”

  Jayden scoffs. “Dude, you’re Jonathan-fucking-Masters. What’s the point of being a movie star if you can’t fuck whoever you want?”

  “It’s not about fucking,” I retort, causing a serious raised eyebrow exchange to happen between my brothers. I snatch my beer from Cooper’s hand and twist the cap off. “Fuck off. I just like her, OK.”

  “Hey, no shade from me,” he says, holding up his free hand. “I’ve got my own game of cat and mouse going on with Belle.”

  “Who’s Belle?” Jayden asks.

  “The singer we went to see
the night Leisel showed up,” I explain.

  “Belle Adams,” Coop says. “Fuckin’ gorgeous. Curves for days. After the chaos died down, I managed to score a moment alone with her as well as her number.”

  “Sweet.” Jayden grins. “Did you call her?”

  “Not yet. I don’t want to seem as eager as this fuck-knuckle over here,” he says, clapping a hand against the back of my head.

  “Hey.” I pull my head to the side and thump him in the shoulder before he can lift his beer to his lips. It splashes and gets his shirt, so Jayden and I laugh. Brotherly love. “And I hate to break it to you, brother. But women don’t appreciate waiting two weeks for a guy to call.”

  Cooper grins and shakes his head. “Nah, mate. Just you wait. I’ve got it all figured out. She’ll be putty in my hands.”

  “If you say so.” I roll my eyes. I’ve never known a single woman to react kindly to a call that takes longer than a week.

  “Better than being so desperate to get in her pants I fake a junket,” he shoots back.

  I bounce a shoulder since I have zero regrets over that one.

  Jayden looks at us both like we’re crazy. “You know you two are gonna spend all this time chasing these chicks down before you fuck them and get bored, right?”

  Cooper tilts his bottle forward. “Half the fun is in the chase.”

  While at the same time, I lean against the bench and say, “No way.”

  “No way?” Coop narrows his eyes. “You already fucked her, didn’t you?”

  Running my tongue between my lips, I place my beer bottle on the counter. “That’s none of your fucking business.”

  His mouth falls open. “Holy shit. You’re whipped.”

  “What?” Jayden practically chokes on his beer.

  “He’s pussy whipped,” Cooper says again.

  “That’s a real thing?” Jayden asks, looking horrified.

  I just smile and shake my head, because I can’t deny it. She’s all I think about.

  Nineteen

  Sandra

  “You are not going on that roof!” my mother yells as I leave my room on Saturday morning. I’m awake and packed, ready to go back to my place so I can agonise over my life direction in my own surroundings. I love my parents, but there’s something to be said for independence.

  “I’ll do what I bloody well like,” Dad counters. I head into the kitchen to see what the fuss is about.

  “Sandra, tell your father he can’t climb up on the roof to fix the leak in the laundry. Tell him we’ll hire a roofer.”

  “Is there such a thing as a roofer?” I ask.

  “Of course there is. They’re the men whose job it is to climb on roofs and not fall through,” she insists.

  “And they’ll charge us a thousand bucks just to fix a cracked tile that I can easily glue myself,” Dad argues.

  “Tony Haegan! I don’t want you up there. I’m putting my foot down.”

  Dad just laughs his big belly laugh and kisses her on the cheek. “You worry too much, Mad Maddie. I’ll see you when I get home,” he says, giving me a wink and walking out the door, effectively ending the argument but leaving Mum fuming like he always does. I wonder if they’ve ever had an actual fight because I’ve never really seen my dad angry. It’s like he finds everything my mother does adorable. Even her temper.

  “Can you please talk him out of it?” she implores. “He might actually listen to you.”

  “When has he ever listened to anyone?” I laugh until I notice Mum’s lips turn into a straight line. “I’ll do what I can. I’ll make a few calls and find out how much this roofer guy will be. Then I’ll have something to convince him with. I doubt it will even cost a grand.”

  “He’s such a tight arse with home repairs. Thinks he can do it all himself. Well, I’ve got a pile of bricks out there that is supposed to be a barbeque. He’s as bad as bloody Homer Simpson.”

  “Oh, he is not. If he was like Homer, those bricks would be cemented together in a nonsense shape instead of a neatly ignored home for red back spiders.”

  “I know. I’m scared to go anywhere near them.”

  I place a hand on her back and rub in circles. “It’s OK. I’ll sort him out.”

  “Promise?”

  “I promise.”

  “Thank you, darling.” She smiles with relief as the doorbell sounds.

  “Are you expecting anyone?” I ask.

  She frowns and shakes her head. “Probably a real estate agent or one of those religious people.”

  “Or the people who want to change your light bulbs,” I offer.

  “They’re still coming around? Surely everyone has energy saving globes by now.”

  I shrug before she makes her way to the door, returning a couple of minutes later. “It was a delivery,” she calls out, her voice tilting up a little with excitement and curiosity.

  “Of?”

  She enters the kitchen and holds out a small white box with a blue ribbon tied around it. “Open it and find out.”

  “It’s for me?”

  “Unless some other Sandra is here that I don’t know about.”

  “Who even knows that I’m here?” I take the box from her and notice the tiny envelope under the ribbon with my name on it.

  “Who did you tell?”

  Jonathan. Of course. It seems nowhere is safe when he’s around. “This needs to stop.” I march into my room and grab my phone, dialling his number. He picks up within two rings.

  “Happy Saturday, Red,” he chirps, full of good spirit. I roll my eyes.

  “Why are you calling me ‘Red’?”

  “Because I like the way your cheeks go red when you’re thinking dirty thoughts.” I feel the burn in my face almost immediately and close my eyes.

  “I’m never thinking…” I quit arguing because I know he’s right. I’m always thinking dirty things around him. It’s my living nightmare. I sigh and shake my head. “OK, whatever. But will you stop sending me things, please?”

  “Sending you things?”

  “Yes. I don’t even know how you got my parents’ address.”

  “You’ve got the wrong guy, Red. Whatever you have, it didn’t come from me. Maybe it was from that pretty boy you were kissing in the papers the other day.”

  “Brad isn’t a pretty boy. You’re a pretty boy.” Actually, he’s a stunning man.

  “That’s very sweet of you to say,” he jokes. “I’m flattered.”

  “Well, I’m a sweetheart, what can I say.”

  “Say anything you want, I like listening to your voice.”

  I smile. I can’t help it. “I should go.”

  “Don’t go, Red. Talk to me. Tell me everything that’s happened between Wednesday and now.”

  “I had two blissful days without a phone call from you.”

  “You wound me. I just want to be your friend.”

  “That’s a lie and you know it.”

  “You’re right. It’s our two-week anniversary, and all I want to do is get you alone in a room and bury my face between your thighs until you’re begging me to let you come. I want to fuck you senseless, Red, bury myself inside you, pass out from exhaustion and do it all again when we wake up. I crave you. Every day. I crave you.” I release an involuntary squeak as my knees weaken and I drop my weight on the edge of my bed.

  “Our two-week anniversary?” I force my voice to sound even while his words pulse between my thighs and knot my stomach.

  “Maybe I should have sent you something. Does it look bad for me that I didn’t? Does the chef have more brownie points than me now?”

  “Brad will always have more brownie points than you because I’m actually dating him and you’re being a nuisance.”

  “Still, an anniversary calls for a gift. How about I tell you exactly what I want to do to you while you touch yourself? An orgasm is better than anything that guy put in that box, and I really wanna hear you moan again.” Holy fuck. My clit throbs and I have to clench my internal
muscles to calm the ache in my insides.

  “You need to stop this, Jonathan. We got drunk. We fell into bed. No need to pretend it was anything but a minor lapse in judgment on both our parts.”

  “No, Red. It was the best fucking decision either of us has ever made. You’re just too caught up in the problem to want a solution.”

  “The only problem I have is with a guy who won’t take a hint.”

  “And yet, you’re the one who called me.” I can hear the smile in his voice and roll my eyes. He’s got me there.

  “Fine. Then I’m hanging up now.”

  “You do that. But, Red?”

  “Yes?”

  “When am I going to see you again?”

  “Goodbye, Jonathan.” I hit the end call button and release a sigh. My god that man has a mouth. I have to fan the collar of my shirt in an effort to cool down.

  That’s another issue with staying at my parents’ house; no vibrator.

  Guilt swirls in my stomach as my eyes land on the small box. Shit. Pulling the card from the ribbon, I open it and read the message inside.

  For your tastebuds.

  Call me. Any time.

  Brad x

  I am the worst kind of person. Brad is sending me gifts while he’s overseas working, and I’m here thinking about vibrators and Jonathan Masters. Granted, half the women in the world probably think about Jonathan Masters while using their vibrators. But I shouldn’t be one of them.

  Pushing thoughts of Jonathan aside, I open the box to find a red velvet cupcake inside. The cream cheese icing swirls into a perfect point, and I touch my finger to it, bringing to my mouth and tasting the sweetness of Brad’s gesture. Brad. I’ve barely thought of him since Jonathan came busting back into my life on Wednesday, and he deserves better than that. I have no intention of being anything more to Jonathan besides the reporter on his story, and then I plan to become a distant memory. With Brad, I want to try for something more. Something that can last. I haven’t been in a relationship since my uni days, it would be nice to have someone in my life I look forward to seeing. Brad.