Behind the Scenes

A Scoundrels Short Story

By Mari Carr

Copyright 2013 Mari Carr

First electronic publication: March 2013

Cover by Valerie Tibbs

This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locale or organizations is entirely coincidental.

Fantasy…Reality…Action!

Becca Preston, bartender at Scoundrels, learned very early in life that men—especially actors—were not to be trusted. Daughter of one of Hollywood’s hottest leading men, Becca spent most of her life dealing with her father’s other role—king of infidelity. As a result, Becca has one hard and fast rule. Don’t date actors.

When Parker Banks met Bec, he was a struggling actor who worked as a waiter at Scoundrels to make ends meet. Though he wanted to move them out of the “just friends” realm, Becca refused
, claiming actors untrustworthy.

After a catching a break on the Scoundrels stage, Parker’s acting career skyrocke
ts. However, while he’s achieving all his goals professionally, there’s still one dream he hasn’t realized. Claiming Becca’s heart.

Thi
s short story is connected to the Scoundrels books available now at Ellora’s Cave.

Chapter One

“Pass me the rum, Becca.”

Becca Preston grabbed the bottle of Bacardi
and handed it to Bill before powering up the blender on her own batch of daiquiris.

“Becca, when you get a chance I need two Heinekens and a vodka tonic.”
Belinda, the new waitress, reached across the counter to grab a handful of cocktail napkins. “Is this place always so crazy?”

Becca grinne
d as she popped the tops off the beer bottles and stirred the mixed drink. “There’s a new show opening tonight. That always guarantees a full house.”

Belinda gave her an exhaust
ed look, murmured a quick word of thanks, then darted off to deliver the drinks.

Emma, part owner of
Scoundrels, sank down on a barstool at the end of the counter. “We’re screwed.”

Becca tried
to decide if she’d heard her boss correctly. The music was blaring, making it difficult to hear anything that wasn’t shouted. “Why?”

Emma’s shoulders slumped.
“Angie fell down the stairs at her building. She’s in an ambulance right now on her way to the hospital. EMT thinks she broke her ankle.”

“Shit.” Suddenly Becca understood Emma’s concern. Angie was tonight
’s lead in one of the sex fantasy shows Scoundrels, one of L.A.’s hottest night spots, was famous for. Emma jokingly referred to the erotic entertainment she created as “classy porn.”

T
he shows were hot, while never quite crossing over a line that would get the actors arrested for performing lewd acts in a public place. Emma delved into people’s darkest fantasies, creating the illusion of sex on stage. The shows pulled in patrons from all walks of life—blue-collar, businessmen, even movie execs—and several Scoundrels actors had actually gotten their big breaks after being discovered by producers who attended the shows under the guise of searching for new talent.

After six
years as a Scoundrels bartender, Becca had learned sex evened out life’s playing field. Everyone who walked through the doors came partly out of curiosity, but mainly because they wanted to see their own sexual fantasies brought to life.

Becca flicke
d a quick look at the patrons sitting at the bar. Everyone seemed good, so she gave Bill a nod. “I’m taking five.”

Bill nodded and continued filling a couple of pitchers.

Becca walked around the counter, leaning against the railing next to Emma. “So what are you going to do?”

While Emma was essentially her boss, Becca
had also come to view her as a friend. Both of them were professional enough to recognize the line between personal and business. They never let it become blurred. Becca didn’t shirk her responsibilities or expect special treatment simply because she was friends with Emma, or because her father was a Hollywood legend and everyone knew Becca didn’t really need the job. And Emma didn’t play favorites. Period.

Emma shrugged
. “I don’t have a clue. Tonight’s huge. A sell-out. I’ve been advertising the surprise actor for weeks. His appearance here is going to be a major coup for us.”

“So you keep saying, but since I don’t
know who tonight’s lead is, I can’t really sympathize.” Emma had been remarkably tight-lipped about the show’s leading man. No matter how many times Becca begged for a hint, Emma simply gave her a slight smile and told her she’d find out when everyone else did—the moment the man walked on the stage.

Emma rubbed her eyes wearily. “Doesn’t matter
now. We’re forty-five minutes away from show time and I don’t have a leading lady.”

“Why don’
t you do it?” The answer seemed fairly simple. Emma was no stranger to the Scoundrels stage, typically performing with her sexy husband, Jack, once a month.

Emma shook her head. “I only act with Jack.”

“Surely he’d understand.”

“It’s not about him. I just couldn’t perform with another man. Jack’s the only one who…” Emma’s wor
ds faded away, but Becca filled in the blanks. Emma and Jack were ridiculously devoted to each other. In fact, Emma had fallen in love with her Black Jack while acting out a pirate fantasy on the Scoundrels stage.

“So call in another actress.”

Emma shot her a dirty look. “Inspired idea, Bec. You think I haven’t thought of that? Shea’s upstairs right now, dialing the phone off the hook, but even if she manages to find someone, there’s no time to get them in costume and character.” Emma glanced at her cell. “I need my actress here in the next ten minutes in order to start this show on time.”

“What about one of the waitresses?” Becca suggested.

Emma looked around the bar area, considering the idea. Then she sighed. “No. None of them would last five minutes with my actor. I need someone stronger, more self-confident, not easily intimidated.” Emma’s gaze landed on Becca and held.

Becca raised her ha
nd. “Forget it. I don’t act.”

“You d
on’t have to.”

Becca frowned. “What does that mean?”

“It won’t be an act for you because it’s your fantasy. Remember when we went to lunch at Bouchon in Beverly Hills a couple months ago?”

Becca nodded, catching Emma’
s drift immediately. “What have you done?”

Emma grinned
guiltily. “I was struggling to come up with an idea for this month’s show and your fantasy was pretty hot. I decided I could do some wicked things with the lighting and the music and with the right actor…” Emma gave her a hopeful look.

“I’m not going on stage to
perform for the entertainment of three hundred perverts.”

Emma laughed. “M
y patrons aren’t perverts. Much.”

“
Everyone’s a pervert deep down. How many men do you have backstage, ready to act this out?”

Emma rais
ed her eyebrows wickedly. “Three.”

Becca’s mouth went dry, recalling when s
he and Emma had indulged in a margarita lunch date at Bouchon. The alcohol left them both giddy and talkative. When Emma revealed that she and Jack enjoyed exhibitionism—sex in public, Becca suddenly understood why they thrived on the Scoundrels stage. The fantasies they recreated were so hot, they melted the paint off the walls. After Emma shared her secret, Becca let it slip that her darkest desire was to be taken, captured, held down by two men while ravished by a third.

Now
Emma was offering her a chance to live out the fantasy. It was a tempting gift, if only it didn’t come with the damn audience. Then another memory hit. “Who’s the leading man?”

Emma didn’t reply immediately, her friend’s silence setting off an alarm in Becca’s mind. “Give me an answer first.”

“Excuse me?”

Emma didn’t relent.
“Say you’ll do the show and I’ll tell you who the actor is.”

Becca scowled. “What kind of game are you playing?”

Emma looked at her phone again, biting her lip nervously. Then, she raised her gaze to Becca and said the one thing guaranteed to put her on the stage. “Please, Becca, help me.”

Becca stood outside the dressing room door, feeling like the world’s biggest fool. Offering to help Emma by the bar had seemed easy. Then she’d walked backstage and made the mistake of looking out into the audience. Every seat was filled. She was so fucked.

Before Emma could tell her who the leadin
g man was, a small scuffle broke out near the entrance. Emma had told her to get in costume—apparently there was a nightgown hanging behind the door—and she’d be along soon to give her a breakdown of the show.

The Scoundrels show
s always ran for one month. Different actors enacted each night’s unscripted performance, so the show was never exactly the same. Emma simply created a sexy scenario and encouraged the performers to put their own spin on the plotline.

Becca
entered the dressing room. The room was dimmer than she’d expected, illuminated only by the lights surrounding the mirror.

Great.
The mysterious leading man wasn’t even here yet.

Tonight was destined to be a bust. She started to flip the light switch on the wall
, but froze when she heard a deep voice say, “Don’t.”

She glanced around the shadows and discovered she wasn’t alone. “It’s too dark in here. I need to get into my costume.”

The man chuckled. “Then by all means. Turn on the light
. I don’t mind a clearer view of you getting naked, beauty.”

“Parker?” No wonder Emma hadn’t told her who the leading man was.
Her friend hadn’t kept the secret
from
Becca. It was
for
Becca.

Four years earlier,
Parker Banks had earned a living at Scoundrels as a waiter before, after nearly a year of begging, Emma finally gave the aspiring actor a shot on the stage. Emma had said after his performance he was too good for their little nightclub show and she’d been correct.

A talent scout had approached P
arker that very night and, from that point on, his career skyrocketed, earning him countless roles as a big-screen heartthrob and a spot as one of
People
’s
Most Beautiful People last year.

As a waiter, Parker had
harassed Becca for months, begging her to go out with him, but she’d put him off, declaring she didn’t date actors. A lifetime of dealing with her famous father’s numerous wives, mistresses and casual affairs had jaded her forever. She’d told Parker he would simply have to settle for friendship—and he had. They’d become best friends, hanging out after hours, watching movies, devouring lots of pizza, and sharing their dreams for the future. Becca didn’t make friends easily, and apart from Emma and Shea, Parker had been on the very short list of people she genuinely trusted and cared about.

Then, stardom struck and the two of them
drifted apart. Parker spent months each year on location, while Becca worked long hours at Scoundrels, trying to escape her father’s enormous shadow. Parker had called a few times to check on her, but their friendship had been put on the back burner as real life and Parker’s insane schedule conspired against them.

During Parker’
s three years in the spotlight, he’d proven her assumptions about actors true, as he’d been romantically linked with no less than six different women—actresses, models, dancers. All of the women had been famous and stunningly beautiful.
Typical.