False Lines (Blurred Lines Volume 7) (6 page)

“Johnny?”

It’s Scarlett. I can tell by the low raspy voice.

“Come in,” I say, leaning back in my chair and sipping some bottled water.

She’s dressed in her costume—a tight red dress and red stiletto heels. Her hair is curled softly around her face and she has on black eyeliner and red lipstick. She reminds me of Marilyn Monroe, if Marilyn Monroe had been too skinny and surgically enhanced. Still, she looks beautiful.

“You look hot,” I say and smile.

“Thanks.” She looks at her hands. I notice her long nails are painted red.

It’s obvious she’s in one of her moods. The world sees a total bitch. That’s her persona. But underneath is a self-conscious girl with daddy and mommy issues. She had both parents at home growing up, but her childhood was still rough. Her dad was always working and her mom put her on a diet when she was ten. She was told she was fat and that fat people were ugly people. Her mom is seriously overweight, which explains why she fed Scarlett her self-hatred.

“Is the whore going to be on set today?” She runs one long nail down my arm.

The comment pisses me off, but that’s what she wants. It was the only way she got attention from her daddy. Pissing off me is how she knows she’ll get attention. “I’m not sure. Probably.”

I look up from the magazine article I’m reading about myself in
Men’s Health
magazine and watch her through the reflection in the mirror.

She quirks a perfectly shaped eyebrow. “What did she say about our scene yesterday?”

I know she’s referring to our sex scene. It’d turned out steamy, exactly as I intended, but I saved that kind of intensity for when the cameras rolled. Scarlett never understood that. She thought that if the chemistry was good on screen it would be even better off.

We’d tried it her way once before. It hadn’t worked.

I shrug. “She hasn’t seen the final cut yet, but she didn’t say a word. Cadence realizes what I do on screen is acting. Nothing more.” I don’t tell Scarlett about how, when Cadence and I did the scene, there was no acting involved. Nor do I tell her that I’m kind of aggravated that Cadence isn’t jealous. The woman is all kinds of new and I’m just trying to keep up.

“Oh.” Scarlett leans in and touches my ear with the tip of her nose. “I thought we could run some lines while we’re waiting. The second makeup-sex scene. I’m not sure I got the dialogue right before and after we fuck down.” Her hand moves down my stomach to the front of my pants. “You can
pretend
the cameras are rolling,” she says, grabbing my slowly hardening cock.

I turn to face her. “I think we should save it for the cameras. Keep it fresh.” I move her hand, squeeze it, and smile. “You look beautiful. I don’t want to mess up your hair and makeup.”

She pouts, but I can see she likes the compliment. “Fine. I’ll see you on set.”

Scarlett walks out.

I sigh, get up, and lock the door. Unzip my pants and let them fall around my knees. My cock is hard, so hard. I want to fuck. I want Cadence.

Closing my eyes, I imagine the way she looks soaking wet in the shower. Water splashed her face as my cock rocked in and out of her delicious ass. God, she’s tight. So fucking tight.

“Fuck.” Precome oozes from my dick and I use the juices to make it slick. I run my hand along the shaft, swirling the end. “Cadence,” I whisper, imagining the way she pounds her ass against my hips. The way she moans and the look on her face when she comes.

My orgasm is close. I grab some tissue and release into it, my body jerking at the intensity of my orgasm.

“God, Cadence. You’re mine. Only mine.”

I decide to take a limo into the office. Zane left me a car, but I hate driving in L.A. traffic. I put up the partition and make myself a drink. It dawns on me this has become a habit, drinking alone. And I’m not even twenty-one yet, not that I ever feel inclined to overindulge. I had the poster parents of what not to do. But still. It isn’t a good idea. I know that as I drink the bourbon anyway. It soothes my nerves. I just ate hot apple pie topped with vanilla ice cream, so it isn’t like I’m drinking on an empty stomach, at least.

Plus, I’m turning twenty-one soon. Like in… I pull out my phone.

“Holy shit!”

My phone rings, scaring the bejeezus out of me. It falls out of my hands and lands on the floor of the limo, but not before I see Jessica’s drunk face pop onto my screen. I quickly pick it up and answer.

“Hey. What are you doing up?” I ask, tugging on the pearls around my neck—the ones Zane gave me.

“Hey, yourself. I’ve got party plans to make.”

“Another party? Sheesus, you’re a lush,” I say, even though I know which party she’s talking about. Mine. Jessica is that kind of friend.

“Fuck you,” she says and yawns. “It’s the big two one. This party has to be epic. I’m talking, so fucking awesome it’ll go down in the history books.”

“I don’t know. I was thinking just a small gathering with a couple of friends,” I say, teasing her.

“Cadence Norton. There will be nothing small about this party. I said epic. I’ve already talked to a few people. Michael said he’d give us the entire upstairs at The Play Pen. He is still shitting golden bricks that you brought Mr. John Cruze: Famous actor, Hottest Man on the Planet, and playboy extraordinaire to his club.”

I laugh. “Really? Golden bricks?” I take a piece of ice out of my glass and suck on it.

“I’m serious,” she says, giggling. “But, I said epic and history books. The Play Pen has been done, like just barely, so that’s a no go.”

“Well,” I started, crunching the almost melted ice with my teeth.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll plan everything. Just make sure you’re available this Friday night. If you have to bring the Hottest Man on the Planet, that’s fine, but you aren’t to let him take you on any sort of surprise getaway or whatever the fuck it is rich and famous people do. Got it?”

“Got it. Friday night. I’m all yours. And don’t worry about Cruze. I—uh, doubt he’ll come. I’m doing some me time.”

“Fuck, Cade, did that asshole break up with you?” She growls. Her voice is suddenly sympathetic. “Because I have no problem kicking his pretty ass.”

“You know you made out with him last night,” I say, changing the subject.

“Did not.” Jessica gasps. “Do not lie to me.”

I can’t help but laugh. “I swear. You grabbed his ass and stuck your tongue down his throat twice.”

“Oh my God. I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.” I shake my glass, listening to the ice clink, and then take another piece in my mouth.

“Fuck me sideways. I made out with John fucking Cruze.” Her voice is filled with awe.

“Yes, you did.”

“I’m a fucking rock star.”

“Of course you are.”

“I gotta go. Talk again soon. Kisses.” She hangs up.

I end the call and lean back in my seat, trying to decipher why, if I really do care about Cruze, I’m not the least bit upset he made out with my best friend.

The bungalow on the Universal lot, one of Zane’s production offices, is snapping with tension. The blonde receptionists are chatting nervously. I’m guessing it’s because Nigel is here and he’s barking orders.

“… I mean, if she’s going to run this business, then she should be here,” Nigel says, throwing a pen at Blonde One.

“Hi, Nigel. What seems to be the problem?”

The director turns. His dark beady eyes take in my black bootlets, my bare legs, and my above the knee cream dress. I’ve paired it with a thin black belt. His eyes linger on my chest and he licks his lips. Then he moves up to my face and glares.

I brush my hair off my neck. I blew it out so it’s long and straight.

“Your lead actress is throwing a fit. She doesn’t like the dialogue on a certain scene, and she’s halted filming. I swear I want to fire her bony ass.” He sidles up to me. In my heels I’m taller than he is, and I get the feeling he likes it that way. It makes it easier for him to confront the part of my body he’s most attracted to. One chubby finger reaches out to touch my necklace but I move out of the way before he gets a chance. “Maybe you and I should have some time together. Just the two of us.” His eyes flick to mine momentarily.

I give Blondes One and Two a cursory look, then turn back to Nigel. “She doesn’t like the dialogue? We’d better look it over then.” I smile sweetly. “Have a seat,” I say, indicating the waiting area. “I’ll be right with you.”

His mouth opens and closes like a dying carp and I want to burst into laughter, but I resist. Facing the blondes, I say, “Any messages?”

They are both giving me their best doe-eyed expressions, the ones that say I’m innocent, which I know is total bullshit. They were probably egging Nigel on.

Blonde Two hands me a pink stack of papers and I wonder why we aren’t totally paper free yet. We should be. “From now on,” I say, looking from one blond to the other, “please list my messages in an email three times a day. In the subject line put
messages
in all caps and, next to that, the date you send it.” I glance at a pink slip of paper, see it’s nothing I need to worry about, and walk over to the recycling bin. I toss it and then turn back. “No more pink slips. It’s a waste of paper.”

“Yes, Ms. Norton,” Blonde One says.

“Good. Now would you get Nigel a—” I look at the director. “Would you like something? A drink?” I can’t help but let my eyes wander to his oversized gut. “A donut?”

“Coffee. Black,” he says.

“Get him some coffee, please,” I tell Blonde Two. She nods and I move away toward the hallway. I glance back at Nigel. “You coming?”

He shoots imaginary daggers, But stands and follows me. I make an extra effort to shake my ass since I know that’s where his eyes will be.

I place my phone and briefcase on the table and turn on my computer. In one corner of what used to be Zane’s office I’ve had a coffee maker installed. It’s only used for my hot water. I flip it on and, while I’m waiting for the water, I sit. Nigel has taken a seat across the desk. I pick up the thick manuscript. “Which scene is she questioning?”

“About damn time,” he grumbles.

I ignore his comment, surprised by how much his demeanor has changed now that I’m his boss. When I was just the arm candy he seemed thrilled to have me around. Not any more.

I sigh inwardly and wait while Nigel flips through the manuscript. Every page is highlighted in yellow and pink. Black ink fills up the margins. It’s obvious that, aside from the fact that it looks like the Easter Bunny barfed all over his pages, he takes this job seriously. Directing isn’t a game to him. It’s his passion. He’s talented, knows what he’s doing. He sees life through the lens of a camera. I wonder if that’s why he’s such an ass. In real life he can’t control what’s seen, how a word is spoken.

When he gets to the page in question, he looks up. “Page eighty-six.”

I turn to that page and browse through the dialogue. Cruze and Scarlett’s characters are speaking. They fall into bed. Then more speaking. This is a pivotal moment: it’s when Cruze’s character figures out how to defeat the evil paranormal client that’s opened a portal, allowing all supernatural creatures to wreak havoc on the world. I force down a snicker. It makes total sense. Fucking and a good woman are the keys to solving everything.

“The dialogue seems fine. Which lines is she struggling with?”

He rubs a hand over his nearly bald head. “Let me tell you a secret. There’s nothing wrong with the dialogue. It’s the actress. She’s insecure, a total bitch, and just wants someone else to do her job and give her all the credit.”

I have a feeling he’s right. “So tell her that. She works for us. Make her say the lines and do it right.”

He leans forward. “Don’t you think I’ve tried that? Trust me, I wouldn’t be here if I thought there was any other way.” He slams the manuscript shut.

“Fine. Let’s go.” I pick up my phone and walk out of the room.

“Where the fuck are we going?” He’s right behind me.

I whip around, startling him. “You better start speaking to me with the respect my title demands or you’ll be the one fired.”