Page 3 of Hollywood Comes Home

Filming began a month after I arrived, and we were wrapping up the production within the next week. I hadn’t spoken to anyone back in Boston since that day at the airport when Ian showed up. I’d evaded everyone’s calls and texts while only focusing on myself. As lonely as it might have appeared to some, I enjoyed the solitude. At least, that was the lie I told myself.

After the breakup, I’d changed, causing me to lose a piece of myself. Each day became an emotional battle. Once the long days on set ended, I found myself drinking alone. Within the walls of my home, I could hide my vices without concern about public judgment.Fuck them all.

After finishing an extensive workout in my home gym, I faltered up the stairs to my bathroom. My body ached as it craved to take a relaxing, hot shower before another late night of drinking myself to the point of enervation. As the water heated, I stumbled into the bedroom. Removing the custom black and silver Philippe Patek watch from my wrist, I placed it on a blue velvet box beneath the wide mirror on the modern walnut dresser.

My eyes flickered to the folded sheet of paper Ian had given me at the airport months ago. Still, I hadn’t quite gained the confidence to read it, but it sat waiting patiently until I was ready. Shaking off the inner turmoil, I returned to the bathroom, agonizing over the constant pain. It was a new feeling for me.

Removing my clothes, I stepped into the tall, black and white marbled shower, hastily washing. The last thing I needed was to give my brain enough time to fall into deepshower thoughts. I just wanted to sleep it off until I repeated the motions of life tomorrow.

As I was giving myself a final rinse, my phone rang, vibrating across the bathroom counter. Promptly, I stepped out onto the rug, grabbing a black towel off a bronze wall hook. Wiping away as much water as possible, I wrapped the towel around my waist. Reaching forward, I grabbed my phone, seeing one of my co-star’s faces on the screen.

Putting him on speaker, I answered, hoping to mask my depression.What’s up, Dean?

Open the gate!

The phone went dead. I sighed, opening the security app on my phone, pressing theGatebutton. Slipping on a pair of white track pants, traces of water still dripping from my bare chest, I hurried downstairs to the foyer. When I reached one of the tall, distorted glass doors, I saw multiple silhouettes and heard several voices. I tugged the door open, and was greeted by Dean, our co-star, Simone, and an unfamiliar face.

“Okay,” I grumbled, “well, come in, I guess.” Lazily shooing the door to the side, I allowed them in.

The girls giggled, clutching one another as they made their way into the foyer. Glancing around the grand entrance, they admired every inch of the interior. The strange girl’s gaze settled on the black and white tiled floor as if she were studying the pattern.

Dean patted my shoulder, passing me and arching his brows. “It’s been so good to have you back in Cali where you belong, man.” An evil grin smeared his face, his eyes skimming the girls.

I nibbled the inside of my bottom lip before my glare settled on our tall, slender blonde, costar. “Yeah, we'll see.” For the first time since meeting Simone on set, I truly analyzed her. My eyes trailed slowly up and down her perfect body, accentuated by a short, black satin dress. “I sense trouble, though,” I mumbled quietly to myself.

Dean threw his hands out to the side, backing through the foyer. “Let's get this party started!” With his signature mischievous grin, he ran his fingers through his dark brown undercut and spun around, disappearing into the living room.

“Party?” I groaned.

Leaving me alone with the two overdressed women, I extended a hand in his direction. Both beaming, they exchanged glances, curiously following Dean's loud voice, echoing throughout the downstairs. He chatted to no one in particular about the selection of alcohol available.

When we entered the room, he’d already rummaged around the gold, mid-century liquor cabinet, now pouring four drinks. Lazily falling back on the white, L-shaped leather couch, I rested my feet on the black coffee table, lacing my fingers together behind my head. My gaze lingered on Simone once again before I turned my attention back to Dean.

He was one of my oldest friends inHollywood. We’d done a few projects together in the past and became good friends after spending much time together on set day after day. He was one of the few people in California I trusted. Trust was something rarely given in our line of work.

He peeked up while pouring the final beverage. “I guess I should make the formal introductions, huh?” He turned to the girls, motioning toward the sitting area. “Go on and sit. He won’t bite you,” narrowing his eyes on me, he continued, “but I don’t know what he’s into, so that’s for you to find out.”

He knew damn well what I was in to. He and I had fucked many women together. Before Amber, he and I hosted sex parties and things always got… insane.

Shooting him a dirty look, I turned to the girls who were currently peering around uncomfortably. I pointed to the furniture. Dean sauntered over, distributing drinks before taking a seat in a nearby chair. The girls sat on opposite ends of the sofa.

“That's Layla.” He lifted his chin and glass toward the brunette, her bright blue eyes trained on me. “She’s one of Simone’s best friends.” He paused with a smile as he watched me, waiting for a reaction to the stunning girl. He took a sip of his drink as his eyes slowly traced the curves of Layla’s voluptuous chest.

I clenched my jaw. Dean and I might have been close, but I was becoming increasingly despondent as the months passed without Amber in my life. Still too stubborn and self-loathing to contact her, I wallowed in my sadness every night while I missed her more with each passing moment. And he knew how I felt.

“You have a great home,” Simone gushed, tugging me out of my darkness. “Perfect house for a perfect man.” She attempted to flirt, poorly struggling to hide her excitement.

“Yeah, I— um—” I couldn’t find an appropriate response, as my mind was drifting to a happier past. “—right. Thanks.”

I chugged the rest of my Grey Goose vodka before setting the empty glass down on the coffee table in front of me. I stood, presenting a tall, threatening posture. The girls shifted in their seats, unsure of what was going on. Their eyes followed my every movement. Focusing my attention on Dean, I exhaled a slow, deep breath. The corner of his lips twitched ever so slightly. He knew a lecture was coming.

“Can I see you in my office?” Narrowing my gaze, I jerked my head toward the hallway, gritting my teeth. “Immediately.”

Nodding, he turned his attention to Layla, then Simone. “Please excuse us, ladies.” Mocking a bow, he chuckled as he sauntered toward the archway.

My eyes shifted back and forth between the girls, and I flashed a palm. “Don’t—” I snapped before correcting my tone, “touch anything.”

Simone’s lustful gaze raked from my feet to my face as she ran her tongue across her bottom lip. I gnawed the inside of my cheek before turning away, following Dean.

---