Under the Lights (23 page)

As I turn to the mirror, I'm feeling good. I'm feeling strong. Like I can conquer anything if I just play things right.

And then I see that the T-shirt I'm wearing isn't a plain black one after all. The letters “NIN” are clearly visible in the light. It's the shirt she was wearing the night I awkwardly reached out and touched her tummy in the yoga studio.

Seems she really
hadn't
minded.

Just like that, all my newfound self-assurance breaks. I may be an actress, but I can tell the difference between real and fake. And what I feel for Bri is definitely the former, even if I can't do anything about that.

Good thing I'm a pretty solid actress, because I'm about to put on one hell of a show.

I watch from my window as K-drama drives off through the crowd of paparazzi, refusing to get within a thousand feet of that mess while she's around. I feel sorta bad that this sucks for her, but having people banging down my door for interviews isn't the worst thing in the world for me.

Holly wants to capitalize on the interest right away, so I've already got my first interview set up for this afternoon. She's convinced that all people need is to see my face again, in connection with something that
doesn't
have to do with reality TV, and then suddenly scripts will fall into my lap, or something. I'm not sure I even want that, but at least it's something to do.

By the time I'm done getting ready, I'm already running late, but I look so damn good I highly doubt anyone will mind. Holly greets me at the studio and all but shoves me into a chair opposite Gavin Lawrence, Smarm to the Stars. A cute little blonde runs over and powders my face; Gavin's already wearing plenty. Then he smiles, and so do I, and it's on.

“The elusive Josh Chester!” The smile grows even bigger. It's like the fucking Hollywood sign of teeth. “You've been a busy man lately. First, those new Aspen ads—which look great, by the way. Then joining Liam
Holloway and Vanessa Park for an arc on
Daylight Falls
, and now a reality show…”

“I like to keep my fans guessing,” I say smoothly, using a line Holly fed me on the phone this morning. “I get bored easily. What better way to shake things up than playing the field?” Aaaaand wink at the camera.

“And that you certainly are! Just when rumors seem confirmed that you and Shannah Barrett are back together, this story breaks about you and Vanessa Park—”

I cut him off with a forced laugh. “Oh, God, that. Trust me, there is zero truth to those rumors! To
any
of them,” I add firmly, because no chance I'm letting Shannah's famewhoredom cockblock me. “I'm single, ladies! Come at me!”

Gavin's fake laugh in response is far more practiced than mine; I'm not sure he's ever used a real one. “I don't know that I'm buying this,” he says in what I think is an attempt to be playful but makes me want to punch him in the nuts. “There were a whole lot of pictures of the two of you together, and I did hear she emerged from your house this morning after some serious partying last night…”

I take a deep, exasperated breath and think about K-drama, how distraught she seemed that morning and how paranoid she is that this'll be the end of her. It's bad enough she has to bone Zander Wilson of all people; I can't make it worse, even if I think it's funny as hell.

“Vanessa Park is a good friend of mine, and she's welcome to stay in my
guest house
—alone—as often as she wants, just like my other friends do. There is not, nor has there ever been, anything romantic between the two of us.
Off
set, that is,” I add with a smile. At least Mickey Davis will appreciate the bit of promo
there, even if he hates me for sullying the good name of one of his stars.

“Then why was she staying at your place at all, and not with her boyfriend, Zander Wilson?” Gavin asks, all bullshit-casual.

“You'd have to ask her that,” I say with a shrug. “I'm just here to talk about my favorite subject: Me.”

More fake laughter. “Fair enough. So, with all these rumors about you and his ex, is there tension between you and Liam?”

Seriously?
I should've known coming here was a bad idea. I don't know how Holly envisions this doing anything good for me, but all it's really doing is pissing me off. “Dude,” I say flatly, “this is getting boring. We all know nothing happened, so no, no one gives a shit—not Liam, not Zander, and hopefully none of our fans. Do you have any actual questions, or can I get back to something that matters?”

“Like what?” he asks sweetly.

I've never been a guy with much self-control, but whatever of it I possess goes into stopping myself from punching Gavin in the face. The worst part is, he's right. I don't know where I'm going from here, what I'm doing next. Without this bullshit drama, I don't even know why people would care to keep watching me on this stupid reality show. Because I'm rich? Because I'm hot? Because I party?

When I'm not the bad boy, I'm nothing.

And thanks to the fact that I'm in danger of losing both my money and my house, and given I've been far too occupied with a lone girl recently, I'm pretty damn close to becoming irrelevant.

“Nothing I can talk about yet.” Being able to convincingly look and sound like a smug asshole at any
moment is a God-given talent I'm extremely grateful for right now.

He perks up in his seat, obviously having bought it. “Not even a little hint for our loyal viewers?”

“Sorry, Gav.” My shit-eating grin is so wide I swear even
I
almost believe I'm not talking out of my ass. “But thanks for having me. It's been fun.”

He blinks in disbelief as I start taking off my mic, and a technician runs to my side. I was supposed to give him a full fifteen minutes, but there's no way in hell. He recovers quickly and we shake hands and whatever, and then I gotta get outta here. Preferably to get shit-faced and hook up with someone who's not Vanessa Park.

Except I don't really feel like doing either of those things. What I really wanna do, so help me God, is curl up on my couch with her for the rest of the day and watch more movies.

Oh, shit. I'm turning into Liam.

No. I will not let this happen. I'm not becoming that guy. And I'm not fading into obscurity either.

I whip out my phone, summon Ronen, and make some calls. If I'm goin' down, I'm doing it in a blaze of glory.

I don't know what the fuck time it is, but I am
drunk.
And a little high. And a
lot
horny. Thankfully, there's a redhead sitting at my feet who seems very happy to help with that last one, and as soon as I take this next shot with that guy whose name I can't remember from that movie that was s'posed to be a big deal, I'm gonna get on that.

“Enjoying yourself, cuz?” Wyatt asks smugly, taking a puff off the one-hitter in his hand. “You're welcome.”

“You did indeed come through for me, my flesh and blood.” I clap him on the back, then nab the one-hitter and take my own puff. “Looks like the Chester last-minute-party-throwing genes have extended your way.” Never mind that everything from the alcohol to the weed to the girls were supplied by me and my guys; Wyatt's supplied something I can't these days—his little house in Burbank where Chuck and his fucking asshole staff of stalkers won't and can't follow.

I take one more puff—just enough that Wyatt's proud face will stop pissing me off—and pass it back. I pull up the redhead and breathe the smoke into her mouth.

She giggles and stumbles into me, and it's all so fucking predictable I could kill myself. But she isn't K-drama, which is sixty-nine points in her favor.

“You wanna go somewhere?” she asks breathily in my ear.

Ugh, the thought of getting up right now is not appealing. “Not really, but it's cool. We can just stay here. No one's watching.” I have no idea if that's true or not, but I don't really give a shit. It's a town of fucking voyeurs anyway. They wanna watch my life? Let 'em watch. I cup her hip and pull her closer—the universal sign for “straddle me now”—and admire her tits while she gets herself into position.

“You sure about that?” she asks.

“Yeah. Sure.” I nod toward my junk, impatient for her to get started.

She looks around, all shifty-eyed. “Um, I think people are—”

“Oh, for fuck's sake, forget it.” I jerk my hips to the side to throw her off me, my hard-on already
disappearing. “Wyatt!” I yell out, searching for wherever the hell my degenerate cousin disappeared to. “Bring me back that piece!”

“Ratcheting up the charm to a thousand, Chester, huh?”

My head whips back and I drop my jaw. “Liam Holloway, back to grace us with his presence. No fucking way.” I slap him five, right into our bro handshake, and he laughs.

“Gracing the peons with my presence,” he jokes. “I'm off 'til
noon
tomorrow. This is the most I've been able to breathe in months. Decided there was no better way to spend it. At least until Ally wakes up.”

Just like that, my buzz goes south. Liam's my best friend, but hearing about how he has fucking
everything
right now—dream roles he's actually excited about, a girlfriend he's obsessed with, and so much money he could wipe his ass with it for the rest of his life and still buy my house—is the last thing I need. The reminder from earlier that he's already
had
K-drama, even if it was in bullshit capacity, is just the icing on the shit cake.

“Yeah, well, thanks for slumming it, bro.” I peel myself off the couch and walk off in search of Wyatt or anyone else who might have weed or a shot handy.

“Hey! Chester!” Liam yells out, but I don't bother turning around. I don't need to hang out with Golden Boy right now. I need to hang out with someone who can get me obliterated. Liam's always been crappy at taking a hint, though, and he runs up behind me. “Dude, I was kidding.”

“Yeah,” I snap, spotting a stray bottle of vodka with blurry Russian letters on the label. I grab it and keep walking, hoping Liam will back off, but knowing he won't. “Except you're not. Boo-fucking-hoo that you
have too much work and a girlfriend to get back to. Don't let the rest of us stand in the way of all your important shit.”

“What the hell?” He spins me around, and I'm so dizzy I almost fall on my ass. I grab on to the nearest thing for balance, which turns out to be some chick's boob, and quickly grab my hand back with a muttered apology, because even I'm not that big a dick. “You're pissed at me now? For getting jobs you don't want and a relationship you shit on constantly, even though you happen to love my girlfriend?”

“Yes.” I screw off the cap on the vodka and take a long drink. “You gotta problem with that?”

“No, that's just fuckin' dandy.” He sounds disgusted, which is even more annoying. Because he has every right to be. But it's not gonna stop me from being pissed off.

This time, when I walk away, vodka pleasantly burning its way down my throat, he doesn't stop me.

Half the bottle and a bathroom blowjob from some groupie later, I teeter back into the party, looking for whoever's got Wyatt's bong, TamTam. I find it surrounded by a bunch of dudes, and I think one's Paz, so I walk over, then realize it's not him at all. The guy who isn't Paz is looking at me funny, and I can't figure out why I think I know him. But apparently he knows me, because he hisses “Josh Chesssster” in a way that makes me wanna punch him in the face.

I'm about to ask who the hell he is when he follows up with, “Heard you're fucking my main man's girl. Not cool, bro.”

For Christ's sake, that's who this loser is—Jase Taylor, another one of the Wonder Boys, which probably means he and Zander are screwing on the DL. I'm getting pretty tired of this shit with K-drama. If I'm gonna take this much crap for fooling around with a girl, I'd like to actually get some ass out of it. This is just the worst of all worlds.