On the Outside (Caught Inside #3) (3 page)

Chapter 5

Riley knew.

How she knew I’m not sure, but apparently she did. I tried to engage that bitch, Kacy, in more conversation, trying to get to the bottom of everything, but after those ominous words,
yeah, she knows
, she fell silent.

Riley, please. It’s not what you think! Call me.

Riley, this is Harper again. I’m so sorry. I just need to talk to you so I can explain everything.

Riley, please call.

I dialed Riley over and over again for the next hour, leaving voice messages and bombarding her with texts, but she never called back and part of me knew she wouldn’t. Why would she? If the tables were turned, I probably wouldn’t either.

I shut my eyes and closed my fingers around my phone, leaning my forehead against my fist. “It’s all her fault. If I didn’t listen to her and I didn’t go out, this wouldn’t have happened. If anything she’s just as much to blame as I am.”

Even as those words left my mouth, I knew I was being ridiculous. Nobody was to blame but me. I just hoped I would get the opportunity to apologize to her. One day, at least.

As if the heavens aligned, my phone began to vibrate. My eyes widened in happiness as I quickly answered. “Riley?”

“Riley? It’s Robert,” my agent’s snarky voice replied. Remind me again why I hired him?

I let out a sigh. “Oh, hey…”

“About time you answered my call,” he snapped.

“You never called before today,” I replied in confusion.

“Exactly. It’s because we had no job offers after your little stunt with the Benningtons. No one wanted to get anywhere near you.”

I rolled my eyes. “What do you want?”

“To say good job on the whole Aaron Ferguson thing. It sure got people to stop talking about Louis. Bagging one of New York City’s most eligible bachelors is just the good publicity we needed to score you some auditions—which I did, by the way.” I could almost hear the smug smile in his voice.

“You got me an audition?” Despite the crisis I was experiencing with Riley, I found it in myself to feel one shred of happiness.

“Auditions—ssss—with an S. Plural.”

“Wow.”

“I’m sending a courier over with some scripts. Start studying. You have two pilots, a movie, and a guest spot on
Law and Order
to prepare for.”

“How…”

“No questions. Just don’t screw this up.”

***

Well, I didn’t need to screw anything up because the casting agents’ minds were already made up for me. It didn’t matter how many hours I slaved over these scripts, learning every line, researching characters, and coming up with the best tones. Nope, none of these casting agents saw that. All they were able to focus on was the fact that I was now
Harper Montgomery—bad girl of show business
. Apparently all the auditions were meant for the girl next door, and after my “little stunt,” as Robert so lovingly referred to it, nobody in show business could see me any other way but a tramp.

“Thank you, we’ll let you know.” The prim woman pursed her lips and nodded her head slightly. She motioned for her PA to snap off the camera and gestured toward the door. “You can leave.”

My mouth dropped open. “But I didn’t even get to read—”

“We’ll let you know,” she snapped.

Dumbfounded, I backed away slowly until my fingertips grazed the wooden door. It suddenly opened, causing me to stumble into a pretty girl—a girl who looked strikingly like me.

“Watch it!” she growled, pushing me off of her.

Catching myself, I straightened my body and frowned when I noticed the crowd that had formed in the waiting room. It was as if I’d landed in a convention for women with long red hair and blue eyes. It wasn’t a foreign concept to see clones of yourself at auditions. I mean, these casting agents do have a specific type they’re looking for. However, it was a bit strange to see almost mirror images of you scowling, whispering, snickering, and even glaring in your direction. As hard as it was, I found some shred of strength to lift my chin and puff out my chest.

I will not let them get to me.

The walk between the two rows of seats made me feel even more like an ant under a magnifying glass. These Harper clones stared at me, whispering loud enough for me to hear.

“Look, there goes that slut.”

“Did you hear? She’s slept with Aaron Ferguson now. She must be loose, if you know what I mean.”

“Read an interview with Coby Evans. He said she was a pain to work with. Bet she hit that and quit that too.”

Inwardly, I cringed but kept my mouth shut. There was no way I was going to start yet another scene in a major studio, considering that I was already skating on thin ice. Somehow, amidst all the hate, I mustered enough strength to make it to the lobby of the building, where yet again I was met with more whispers and stares.

“There’s no way I’m getting this part,” I mumbled under my breath. I glanced behind me and noticed that even the security guard was laughing at me. “Or any other part for that matter.”

Just my luck, Justin Timberlake’s melodic voice began to croon again, interrupting my impending wallow in shame. My heart involuntarily clenched at the sound of my cell phone. It was an all too familiar feeling…that hint of hope I felt that Riley would reach out to me. A full week had passed and still nothing but radio silence. It hurt and I missed her. To make matters worse, Aaron would not stop contacting me. I guess the fool didn’t know how to take no for an answer. I should have known he was crazy. I mean, he once followed Riley all the way to California to beg and grovel. She was smart and didn’t give him the time of day. I should have taken note.

JT hit a high note, prompting me to answer. I lifted my phone and rolled my eyes at the image of Robert on my screen. I always thought actors were supposed to love their managers. Why did I hate mine so much?

With a sigh, I answered. “Hello?”

“You didn’t get
Law and Order
.”

I snorted. “I kind of figured that.”

“Or the pilot or the—”

“Okay, okay, I get it.” I sighed and rubbed circles against my forehead. “You don’t need to call me just to tell me stuff I already know.”

There was a slight pause before a cheerful voice asked, “Are you so sure about that?”

My eyelids blinked rapidly. “Wait…why do you sound so happy?”

“Maybe because despite your transgressions—”

“Big word there, Rob,” I interrupted with a huff.

Ignoring me, he pressed on. “Somehow you impressed the casting agents of
Cali Break
.”

“You mean that indie flick I auditioned for?” I scratched my eyebrow, racking my brain for any memory of the audition. I had gone to so many that I couldn’t keep them straight anymore. Up until this moment I really didn’t need to, as they were all a resounding no.

Robert snorted. “Yes, Harper, that indie flick you auditioned for.”

I picked away at the cobwebs in my mind and felt my heart deflate. “That’s the movie about surfing, right?”

“Not just about surfing. It’s about
love
and surfing.”

“Um, okay?”

“Don’t you get it? You landed the lead in a romantic indie! It’ll give you the street cred needed to boost your artistic chops—”

“Please don’t say street cred again,” I muttered.

“—and seeing as it’s a
love
story about a troublemaker with a golden heart…well, let’s just say as a bad girl redeeming herself, this is the perfect role for you. This is just what you need to get your career rolling again.”

“I remember that script now. It’s about that girl who gets out of jail and goes to California to start anew, right? She meets a surfer with a checkered past and ‘together they discover how to love again.’” I echoed the synopsis as best as I could and scowled. “I don’t even know why I auditioned for it. It’s lame and I don’t even know how to surf!”

“Well, I may have exaggerated on your resume a bit on that.”

“What?” My stomach began to tie in knots. “You do know I hate anything with water, right?”

There was a moment of silence. “Wait…do you know how to swim?”

“Of course I do!” I muttered.

“Good.”

“I just don’t like to.” I shifted uncomfortably, imagining myself in the dark ocean floating aimlessly. Visions of being cast away flooded my brain, causing an icy chill to travel up my spine. “I hate the ocean. It’s a dangerous place.”

“The only dangerous place is unemployment.” He let out a stale laugh. “Well, you’re going to learn to love it. Especially since shooting starts in two months. Pack your bags, because you’re moving to California.”

California.

Riley lived in California. Had it been any other time I would have made a point to visit her before shooting started. In fact, I would have probably called her right after Robert hung up to squeal and celebrate. Of course that wasn’t going to happen anymore. Not since the second biggest mistake of my life.

I threw my head back and sighed as I crunched dates in my head. “Two months, huh? Sounds about right. I guess it gives me two months to find someone to sublet—”

“Two months? No, honey. You’re going there in two weeks.”

My eyes widened. “Two
weeks
? Why so soon?”

“You have to get used to the California ocean, right? Trust me; California is just what you need.”

“Seriously, Robert?” I groaned.

“Harper, you can’t just come in without preparing for your role. It’s like taking a driver’s test without ever getting behind the wheel.”

I felt my jaw hit the floor. “Oh, no…you don’t mean…”

“Better buy a wetsuit and surfboard, baby. You’re going to need it.”

Chapter 6

Time is all relative, right? When you’re looking forward to something time can drag on, almost as if it enjoyed torturing your very existence. Then again, when you’re dreading something, time can go by so quickly that…well, once again it tortures your very existence.

I fucking hated time.

Two weeks—two of the most hectic weeks of my life—flew by quicker than I could blink. Two weeks of interviewing prospective subletters, two weeks of trying to find a place of my own,
and
two weeks of trying to research a character that I couldn’t stand. By the time I found myself in the airport, I had succumbed to immense exhaustion. On top of that, I still couldn’t accept the fact that I probably would never speak to my best friend again. Yup, life was bittersweet.

Neck pillow in one hand and eReader in the other, I took my seat in the airplane, ready to say goodbye to New York. What once was a city of opportunity became the city where dreams died. Maybe Robert was right. Maybe California was exactly what I needed.

“Hey, did anyone ever tell you that you look exactly like Harper Montgomery?” I glanced over my shoulder and noticed that a bright-eyed blonde girl sat down in the seat next to mine. Her corn colored hair hung down in waves, and coupled with her bronze skin it made her look like a mermaid. If I had to guess, she was definitely flying
home
to California.

Not wanting any attention, I grabbed at my throat and attempted to change my trademark raspy tone.
Monique, where are you when I need you?

I shook my head. “Um, no. I never heard that before. Thanks.”

The girl lifted her eyebrow, but fortunately didn’t out me as a liar. Or maybe she was just that stupid. “Well, you do. You’re like a dead ringer for her.”

“Thanks, I guess?” I shifted uncomfortably, hoping she’d quit talking to me.

“Oh, it’s a compliment,” she assured me. “She’s really pretty. A bit hoe-ish, but pretty.”

The blood rushed to my face, causing my cheeks to warm considerably. I let out a hoarse laugh and flinched. “Uh, yeah. Total slut.”

“I heard she was a bitch too, and that’s why they kicked her off the show. I wonder what’ll happen to her now.”

I shifted my gaze and stared out the window, focusing on the smog-filled backdrop of the Big Apple. My eyes flitted down to the luggage handlers on the tarmac, and as coincidences went, I spotted my bright pink suitcase being pushed away from the other baggage.

Even my luggage is a social pariah.

With a sad smile gracing my lips, I sighed. “I wonder what’ll happen to her too.”

Luckily, the California girl zonked out a minute after our conversation. Guessing that she’d taken a dose of melatonin by the empty wrapper on her lap, I happily sank back into my seat, thankful for a few moments of silence. Of course, that appreciation soon turned into the regret of not asking Beach Babe for a pill. Despite being a red eye flight, I couldn’t find it in myself to go to sleep. My mind turned over and over again, replaying what happened with the sitcom, Louis, Aaron, and more importantly, Riley. I desperately wanted to see her and even considered stopping by Mistcoast before settling into San Diego. Unfortunately, nerves and the knowledge of Aaron’s near broken nose from his own unannounced trip to Mistcoast scared me away. If I did get to see Riley again, it would have to be on her own time. I’d just have to live with that.

The plane landed in California at a little past ten the next morning. As a native east coaster, I had never set foot past West Virginia. The whole situation felt so surreal. I kept my eyes glued to the windows as I was pushed and shoved along the narrow aisle of the plane. Palm trees and giant hills covered with terracotta roofs stared back at me. Terracotta roofs everywhere. I guess it was better than New York’s incessant skyscrapers. Regardless, everything seemed
strange.
Even from walking in that weird tunnel that connected the airplane to the terminal I could tell that the city would be so much different than New York. The air felt lighter, albeit a bit drier than NYC’s dirtied oxygen.

“This is your life now, Harper. Maybe this can be a place where you can start anew and nobody knows your name. Yup…Good ol’ California.”

***

‘Margot Harpsinger’

I smirked when I saw the little cardboard sign with my ‘Robert-chosen’ alias scrawled on the front. He had assured me that I wouldn’t be greeted by paparazzi and that my flight would be kept completely secret. To my relief he held true to that promise. The airport wasn’t any more crowded than usual and even the chauffeur didn’t seem to know—or care—who I was.

I dragged my carry-on behind me, silently cursing at the broken wheels.

I’m so broke I can’t even afford new luggage.

My face remained scrunched up in a scowl, however when I neared my chauffeur, my face went lax and my mouth literally fell open.

Damn, he’s good looking.

The man was
extremely
handsome. Like abnormally handsome. My head snapped around, wondering if this was part of some hoax. This guy had to be an actor. There was no way someone with his jawline would be fine hiding it behind a car window.

Gulping, I extended my hand. “Hi, I’m Harp—Margot.”

The man nodded his head but didn’t reciprocate my handshake. “Nice to meet you. We’ll get your things and be on our way.”

I waited for him to say more but was met by silence. I didn’t know whether that was a good thing or a bad thing. The good-looking stranger grabbed my suitcase and quickly turned toward baggage claim, leaving me gawking after him. I watched his retreating back and frowned. “Nice to meet you too.”

As expected, the wait at baggage claim was excruciatingly long. To make matters worse, my driver remained silent. By the time we made it to our vehicle, I was certain that I disgusted Mystery Man somehow. Sure, I reeked with the usual “been stuck in an airplane for six hours” scent, and sure, my hair was both frizzy and flat simultaneously, but I didn’t think that warranted a cold shoulder. Deciding that I wanted the ride to end as quickly as he probably did, I resigned to sinking in the backseat and ignoring him.

“Welcome to California,” I murmured quietly.

I peered out the window and watched San Diego fly by. To my relief there were more colors than brown (though most from artificial signs and buildings), and it was a bit awing to catch glimpses of iconic sights that I’d only seen in movies and magazines. Never one for awkward silences, I found it amazing how comfortable I felt wrapped in quietness. I was so caught up in the surrealism of it all that I didn’t notice Mr. Silence, himself, peering at me through the rearview mirror.

“Is this your first time in California?” a deep voice asked.

I nearly jumped, not expecting to hear his voice. Calming my beating heart, I frowned back at his reflection. “Hey, buddy. Eyes on the road. I don’t want to get killed before I even make it home.”

He chuckled. “Do you even know where home is?”

I opened my mouth and abruptly shut it. I couldn’t believe I hadn’t even thought to ask this stranger—albeit employed by my manager—where exactly he was taking me. Though from some conversations with Robert I’d gathered that I’d be staying in some furnished corporate apartments, I really didn’t know their location. Guess safety really wasn’t one of my main concerns, after all.

I glared at the mirror and noticed that he’d finally torn his eyes away me. Initially returning to his silent state, he perhaps took pity on me and in a kind voice explained, “Your apartment isn’t too far from the beach. It’s in Pacific Beach near the location you’ll be filming.”

That caught me by surprise. “You know who I am?”

“I should,” he agreed.

I arched an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Xavier Greene—chauffeur—and your new surf instructor.”

I stared at the back of his head blankly. “What?”

“And if you like, I can be your tour guide too.”

I blinked and repeated, “What?”

He gazed up in the mirror once more and winked. “Welcome to California.”