Idolized (Hollywood Stardust Book 3) (16 page)

“I’m calling to ask if I can drive the car.” His voice turned flat.

“Didn’t we have this discussion already?” she asked.

“Yes, I wanted a different answer so I called back.”

“Do I sound like a woman who would change her mind?” Though she tried not to look, she did catch Ivy giving her a thumbs-up.

“You changed your mind about me, and look we’re moving in together.” Another chuckle escaped from the famous man on the phone.

“I have to go. I have work.” Without saying goodbye, she hung up and faced Ivy. “Now back to the matter at hand.”

“Cora, I need you to authorize the transfer.” Viktor interrupted her talk and pushed her laptop across the table.

Thankfully, she stopped herself from snapping at Viktor. Instead, she looked over the work and entered the password.

Again, she turned to Ivy.

Again, her phone rang.

Again, it was Ryder.

“Excuse me.” Cora practically hit the phone. “Cora Caine.”

“May I please have permission to drive the car?”

The voice that almost made her swoon before now grated on her, and she balled her hand in a fist. “Ryder.”

“They say the third times a charm.”

“The third time will get you a definitive no.” She sighed.

“It didn’t last night.”

“Goodbye, Ryder I’ll see you later.” This was whom the public liked?

“How will I know where to meet you?”

At last she smiled. “Rodger will drive you.” Again, she hung up and turned her attention back to Ivy.

Ivy gave her a grin. “Logan calls him a high maintenance pompous ass who always gets what he wants.”

With a nod, she motioned to Viktor. “We have to get Mr. Scott some sort of car tonight, and I don’t have time to go car shopping.” Logan’s description seemed to be spot on. “Also, find a place that serves vegan pancakes and strong coffee.” What had she done?

* * * *

RYDER HUNG UP THE PHONE and turned to his new nemesis, the slow driving secretary. “Let’s go get my stuff then greet my public.”

“Your public is at a storage facility?” Iced tea in hand, Rodger followed him over to his space.

“The public is where you find it.” Ryder worked the combination on his lock, snapped it open, and motioned toward the roll up door. “I’m ready.”

“Do you want me to roll out the red carpet for you? Sorry, I forgot to bring one.” Mr. Assistant sipped his tea and huffed.

“Don’t worry, I think I have just the thing.” Playing to the back of the storage facility, or at least to Rodger, the wonder help, he bent down and swept the door up.

The simple sight of his treasures put a calm air around him.

Inside was his personal stash of memorabilia, memories and other treasures collected over the years. His father always told him to commemorate all every moment, never forget, and his little square of the world held exactly that. Of course, being who he was, and being what the public was, his items were worth plenty. Not that they were for sale.

Among the movie posters and other bits and pieces collected over the years was something to show Rodger up. He reached down and rolled out a piece of red carpet he acquired from a teen awards show he hosted over a decade ago. “Now I can walk inside.”

With Rodger behind him, he made his way around the boxes of artifacts.

First things first, he needed to put his newest piece away, and walked over to a filing cabinet. He opened the top drawer, added the letter opener to the pen and little spoon he already borrowed from Cora’s apartment.

Once ensuring all his items were in order, he found a copy of the
Working Title
script and grabbed the handles of his two suitcases he packed only the day before. “Do you help with luggage?”

“Only because I want to leave, and we have a schedule.” Rodger grabbed one of the suitcases and glanced around. “What is this? A shrine to yourself?”

“I don’t believe one should make a shrine to one’s self. That would be wrong.” However, he would bet money on the fact that there were several shrines to him around the world. On his way out, he grabbed a handful of 8X10 glossies and a marker.

He rolled up the red carpet and locked his little compartment of items that were devoted to him, but definitely not a shrine.

No sooner had they put the luggage in the trunk than the door to the office way at the end of the row opened and the owner and his wife stepped in, followed by three women who instantly went into the fan girl stance. They stood, huddled together with their hands over their mouths, which said they recognized him.

The owner pointed in his direction, giving Ryder his cue.

“What’s going on?” Rodger asked.

“Shrine starter kit.” After taking a breath, his private signal to morph into the movie star, he went to hold up his end of the free storage rental deal. With a grin and tilting his sunglasses down his nose in the way all women loved, he sauntered toward the little gaggle of girls with glossies and marker that wouldn’t scratch the photo.

“Oh my god Ryder, it is you.” One woman clasped her hands and stared up at him while the other two simply vibrated with excitement.

He looked down at himself and then back at the little estrogen-filled group. “Well, what do you know, it is me.”

His little quip caused all the women to giggle.

“I take it Sy and Dara are taking as good of care of you as they do me.” He shook hands with the owners.

“We were just thinking of renting a space for some extra furniture we’ve accumulated,” the spokesperson of the group continued.

“I wouldn’t trust any of my accumulations to anyone other than Sy and Dara. He signed three of the pictures and handed one to each of the girls and bowed. “Plus, maybe we’ll cross paths again someday, but right now I must be going.” Over his sunglasses, he winked.

The women let out a collective sigh.

He nodded at the owners and returned to the car, slipping into the backseat in one fluid motion.

Rodger started the car then twisted around and stared him down.

Keeping the smile on his face, he held one of photos out to Rodger. “I can personalize it if you like.”

“I’m good.” The man didn’t move.

“So I take it I don’t impress you.” Ryder decided then and there the man was a pain in the ass. His hand wandered to his phone. Maybe the fourth time would be the charm when it came to Cora.

“I work for one of the most powerful businesswomen in the country, if not the world. She impresses me.” Rodger jutted his jaw out. “What else do we need to do, Mr. Scott? I have strict instructions not to return until you’ve cleaned up any messes you have made.”

All right, the man was at least loyal and protective. Not bad traits unless it went against him. “What kind of messes are you referring to?” Cora made a similar reference. Rather than argue, he started signing some extra photos to drop off at Brian, his agent, to deal with the fan mail.

“Anything that may end with us needing to go to a discreet medical clinic.” The man faced forward once more.

Unbeknownst to anyone, he cleaned up one situation yesterday when he walked out of Ms. Tuttle’s life. Everyone thought he was a male whore, but that was such a harsh word for what he was. Serial romantic opportunist would be more accurate. Not needing or wanting to explain this to the assistant or anyone else, he changed the subject. “Now that I think about it, there is one more place we need to go.” After a quick scroll through his phone, he gave Rodger the address, and sat back with the professional diver.

Twenty minutes later, they reached their destination.

“This is a supermarket.” Rodger slid the car into a parking spot.

“Not just any supermarket this is the organic market. I will not allow Miss Caine and myself to put garbage in our bodies. Also, she has a headache, and I need to take care of that.” Ryder got out of the car and paused to get the lay of the land. Off to one side was a huge tent filled with people and a bunch of cages. A sign indicated it was some sort of event for an animal shelter. Eying the crowd, he wasn’t quite sure who were the animals. At all costs he needed to avoid that madness.

“Are you sure all you need is a supermarket? We have no more puddles on the floor we need to mop up?” Rodger joined him.

“Not unless there is something dripping inside.” The people at the storage facility were one thing, a big swarm was another. Still, the market seemed a great way to torture Rodger, and Cora might need some revitalizing juice after tonight’s celebration. “We can go in the side way.”

Rodger stood by him. “What, you don’t’ want to walk into your public?”

“You have a lot to learn since I’ll be around.” Sunglasses on, shoulders down, he made his way around the cars, almost making it to the far side of the building when he stopped short in his tracks.

In show business, timing was everything. If it weren’t for his father taking advantage of some perfect timing over three decades ago, he would have never got his first role as an actor. Some careers were made simply based on walking into a restaurant at a precise moment.

Of course, there was the flip side, when timing was off. Like right now, he spotted Glen and one of his cronies coming out of a little café only a door down from the market. “Damn it.” All he needed was Cora’s secretary blabbing about this little unfortunate meeting. To make sure timing remained on his side, he spun on his heel and began walking back toward the car. “Maybe we should get my stuff moved into my new place. It’s a little crowded here.”

Rodger rushed after him. “I thought you wanted to take care of Cora.”

“She does have a headache.” Instead of using the side door Ryder was certain was just for celebrities, he veered toward the regular entrance. With each step he took, the energy of the people changed, but he made it to the door. Part of him waited for the onslaught, the other dreaded it.

For one second he thought he might enter the store without interruption.

The next second he proved himself wrong.

“Ryder! Ryder!” The woman from the shelter waved to him.

“Is it weird how everyone calls you by your first name, even though they don’t know you?” Rodger followed.

“That’s called money.” Since he was already spotted, ignoring such an obvious photo op would be a sin. Ryder adjusted his sunglasses and walked toward the yapping nightmares and the lady.

“Oh my god.” The woman clasped her hands and jumped. “I’m sorry to bother you, but could I get a photo? Maybe it will help some of these dogs get adopted.”

“Of course, anything for our furry friends. I was just at a fundraiser for animals last night.” He plucked the woman’s phone out of her hand, handed it to Rodger and knelt down by one of the cages with the woman. “Take several shots so she has some options.”

“Oh thank you, Ryder.” The woman kissed his cheek.

He glanced over at the dogs, some puppies, a big strapping setter that reminded him of Drew’s dog, and the dog he settled in front of. The floppy mutt was lying in the cage and slowly turned to him with big wet eyes.

“Oh, he likes you. He hasn’t moved all day. He’s our sad little beagle.” The woman thrust a piece of paper and pen in his direction.

“Why is he sad?” On automatic, he signed the paper and continued to take in the canine. He never had a pet, because he figured he would kill it, and he didn’t need that on his resume.

“His owner died. Spike here hasn’t really recovered. He’s going to have a hard time finding a home. He just needs a nice place with some people who love him.” The woman sniffed as if she might start crying.

With the gathering crowd, he leaned into the dog and tilted his head to catch the good sunlight. “Listen here, Spike, you need to perk up. You have a lot of competition here, and it’s always important to make sure you stand out from the crowd. Find your light, buddy.” Right as he went to stand the dog put one paw up on the cage.

The people all around let out a collective “aw.”

“Excellent work, now you’re getting the hang of it.” He stuck his finger in the cage, gave the dog’s paw a little scratch and stood.

The dog sat up straight and stared at him with eyes that wanted to bore a hole through his heart.

Ryder forced himself to turn away. “Well, good luck.”

“He hasn’t really perked up until now.” The woman pointed over to the cage.

The focus on him as always, he turned.

Damn, damn, damn. Stupid dog sat there staring at him with those orbs that wanted to absorb him and with his small little paw up on the cage. If that was his version of perky, this dog really needed to take better direction.

“He’s only three years old and fully trained. He must see your star glowing, you told him to find his light.” She held on to his arm. “You’re his light. His beacon.”

In a movie this would be the moment where the camera would slowly pan over the crowd waiting for him to make his decision.

Of course, in a movie he would have a script and more than a nanosecond to make a decision.

The dog continued to stare. That was a face that could make money.

Stop everything. Again, his father said things just seemed to happen. An idea formulating in his head, Ryder kept his focus on good old Spike. The sad little dog no one wanted could definitely be the poster animal that would send checks flying his way.

Once more he bent down. “Do you want to be owned by a star?”

When the dog moved his ear and whimpered, Ryder shot up. “Spike has a home!” He lifted his fist in victory.

The crowd went wild and the woman burst into tears.

With a wave of his hand, he silenced the chaos.

Everyone held their collective breath, waiting to hear what he would say.

“Adopting an animal like Spike is only one of the goals of organizations such as Ryder’s Rescue.” He nodded.

“You’re part of a rescue agency?” The woman held out a clipboard and made him sign some papers.

“Yes, I am an advocate to dogs, especially those who have trouble finding a home. We are currently taking donations.” This was perfect.

In only what he would call a whirlwind of activity, people began chattering, and the crowd, who now handed him money and checks out of nowhere, surrounded him.