Page 18 of Gluttony
Stunned, and a little confused, she strode to her room. What just happened? Did he come onto her and then change his mind? Typical. Exactly what she expected from a mercurial movie star.
But as Bailey dressed into her suit, the back of her mind flashed an image of when Tony turned his back on her; a blue glow had refracted against the wall. Had he pulled out his cell? At the idea of him either filming, recording, or dismissing her so suddenly, irritation battered her nerves. By the time she was done preparing her makeup and hair, she was ready to call Max and have a quiet word with her boss.
This kind of behavior from a client was wrong. She didn’t care if he was Max’s future brother-in-law. It was goddamned wrong. She would request to be reassigned first thing in the morning.
Five
Sensing sin wasno walk in the park. For a skill steeped in righteousness, it wasn’t The Rapture, and it wasn’t divine. It was grime and damnation wriggling in Tony’s gut, and it was only through sheer stubbornness, or complete intoxication, that he survived this semblance of what some people called life. Gluttony was something that occurred every hour, minute, and second. It was the indulgence of the rich and powerful. It was the meal of an infant or the excess of a friend. And now that he was forced to stay away from the toxins that drowned his discomfort, gluttony was Tony’s nightmare.
When he crossed the studio threshold, the sense of sin grew heavy in his gut. A crowd of revelers would always do that to him. Sickly and like a beacon, the sense tugged him in one direction and then the next. Whoever imbibed the most would cause the biggest reaction. Not all piggish excess was deadly, not all was sin, but he felt it all the same.
Party already in full swing, production staff and actors milled about on the stage set where he’d filmed his last scene. To the world who’d see it from the other end of a lens, it was a city alley and street complete with upturned cars from the action sequence, and other fallen debris. One of the giant gorilla costumes sat on a chair, pretending to drink at the temporary bar underneath the window of a fake barber shop. Music played from somewhere, but Tony’s eyes had halted wandering, and zeroed in on the bar with longing.
His mouth dried, he swayed a little, and he shoved his hands in his jeans pockets to keep them from glowing accidentally. So far he’d managed to suppress the new, strange power, but it crawled beneath his skin, needing to get out and he had no time to investigate it. So he resisted like a junkie yearning to itch his veins. He’d had plenty of practice stifling his urges, and also plenty of practice succumbing. The sooner he was done with this party and his contractual obligation, the better.
“You okay?” Bailey asked as she came up next to him.
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
Her clever eyes made a pointed dip at his hidden hands. “You’ve put your hands in your pockets. You’re also sweating and your face has paled.”
For a moment, he stared at her, undecided on how to respond. The woman read him like raw post-production footage. He felt naked. Unedited.
“Do you like watching me?” he asked.
She blinked and then turned her gaze back to the crowded room. “Yeah,” she answered dryly. “Sure. Let’s go with that.”
“It’s okay. You can admit it. I saw your Netflix watch list.”
She gaped. “You turned on my television?”
“Had to do something while waiting for you to get out of the shower.”
A muscle in her jaw twitched, and he grinned. “Not one, butthreeTony Lazarus films.”
She rolled her eyes and waved her hand toward the party. “After you.”
Crisis averted, the tension in his shoulders eased. He didn’t need her looking too closely at him. Turning back to the crowd, he steeled himself.Showtime. Plastering the playboy persona on his face, he sauntered further into the joint and raised his hands, shouting, “Let’s get this party started!”
Already halfway inebriated, most of the crowd turned and cheered. Before he knew it, he was surrounded by co-workers, strangers, and more—all wanting a piece of him, or rather, the person he wanted them to see. One by one, the carrion picked him apart until only bones remained. Through it all, he grinned and bared it with one eye on them, the other on his mate, standing stoically to the side, watching his back… or more correctly, watching him.
An hour in, his agent sidled up to his side, interrupting Tony’s selfie shot with two winners from the studio fan club competition. Chet Truscott was a man Tony had once identified with. He’d spent the first years of their business together asking Tony what he needed. Now, the fifty-something-year-old man wearing Armani only cared to ask what Tony could do for him. He wasn’t meant to be at the wrap party, but there he was.
“Tony,” the man stated with a dismissive glance at the groupies. “I need a word.”
Tony held his finger up at Chet, then beamed at the two enthusiasts. A robust woman in her fifties, and her younger, pink-cheeked daughter. They both wore T-shirts that had a picture of his face. “Thank you, ladies for your time. I hope you enjoy the rest of the party. Those shirts are hashtag-adorbs.” He kissed each woman gently on the back of her hand. It was pretentious actor shit, he knew, but he didn’t care. They loved the attention, and he loved the response. Giggles and blushes abound. Spending time with his fans was something he’d always loved. There was something in the way they saw him. It wasn’t Tony, nor Gluttony, but the character he played. Some actors complained at being confused with their characters, but he loved it. He lived for it. Any chance he got, he encouraged it.
After the women reluctantly turned away, Tony’s smile dropped, and he focused on his agent. “Didn’t think this sort of party was your thing, Chet.”
“Oh, you know me, always at the beck and call of my clients.” Chet swirled the amber liquid in his whiskey glass.
Tony scoffed. “You haven’t becked my call in years.”
Chet’s eyebrows lifted at Tony’s mocking tone. “Really? That’s how you’re going to play it?”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” Tony averted his gaze unconsciously toward his bodyguard. Bailey stood in a quiet corner, hands behind her back, stoically watching him.
“Let’s get something straight, Tony,” Chet said, drawing Tony’s attention back. “This industry moves fast. You’re already a has-been so don’t get cocky. You’re not my biggest client, yet you’re my biggest time suck.”
