Falling Star (Beautiful Chaos #2) (6 page)

T
HAT WAS IT! That was the second and
last
time I’d fall for Star’s prick-teasing game. What had I been
thinking
? Her cock-teasing had reached epic levels of professionalism. And each time I had fallen for it, hook line and sinker. I’d bloody well had enough!

I sat there humiliated, water dripping all over my trailer—Star had taken all the towels. I grabbed her T-shirt from the floor to dry myself but started swooning with the scent of her instead. Like Al Pacino in
Scarface
with his coke, I uncontrollably shoved my nose into the fabric that had been touching her skin and inhaled—her sweet sweat, her fragrance—and instantly missed her, my head spinning into a dreamy reverie and wishing I’d just gone along with the “love” story. Why not? Most men did that. Serial monogamy. Fucking one person after another, under the guise of seriously dating each partner in a “forever” relationship, every single time. People even did it with marriages. My dad, for instance. “Committing” a hundred percent, then bailing if it didn’t work out. At least I was being honest.

Or was I?

I’d really bungled things. What had I been thinking getting Cassie involved? She was a sweet girl and didn’t deserve this. I was using her for my own ends and I knew—breathing in Star’s T-shirt once more—that having sex with Cassie would be like jerking off to a Playboy centerfold. I’d feel nothing except physical gratification. If I fucked Cassie my mind would be on Star. Was I in love with that prick-teasing bitch? I couldn’t be—I hardly knew her! Yet I was obsessed with her. Possessed by her, and it was doing my head in. I needed to take my power back and be in control. I wasn’t used to these feelings: my stomach like a cement mixer when she touched me, my brain a constant “Starry” Milky Way, thinking about her twenty-four-seven. I sat there, still wet, and fisted my hard cock, memory-flashes of it in her lush, warm mouth, her lips wrapped tightly around me, only twenty minutes before. I frantically jerked myself off, trying to find some relief, knowing that yes, actually—those words I said may well have been true: I was fucking well falling in love.

With a prick-teasing, manipulative, control-freak virgin:

Star bloody Davis.

I
CAREENED STRAIGHT into Biff as I stomped away from Jake’s trailer (okay, not really stomping as I was barefooted).

“Star, you’ll catch a cold—let me take you home.”

“Home?”

“Yes, back to Jake’s. You’re done shooting for the day.” Biff knew my schedule better than I did.

“I need to go to my
own
home first,” I said. “I need to see the contractor.” I had no intention of ever going back to Jake’s. So he could torment me with his ‘real’ girlfriend? Not a chance. I thought I could perhaps stay in the maid’s apartment above my garage, as my house would be a dusty mess; if not, I’d come back to my trailer for the night—or a hotel—anywhere but Jake’s.

Biff winced. “Sorry, Star. I can’t do that. Jake would be furious with me—I could get fired. Unless Jake asks me directly, I would never go behind his back.”

“Never mind, I’m going back to my trailer now to sort out my hair.”

“Let me come with you.” Her deep voice made me remember that she was a lesbian and I was clad only in towels. “I’m fine, Biff, I’ll see you later.”

Back in my trailer, I emptied half a bottle of conditioner on my hair and ran a comb through the knots. I had another shower and washed that lying son-of-a-bitch “right out of my hair,” singing the song as I did so, and then flung on a long, flowing hippy dress. Nothing sexy or provocative, although I did put on black matching underwear and some black thigh-highs. Sexy underneath to make myself feel good, but chaste and pure on the outside—enough of this flirting game—it was landing me in trouble. No more games in general. The only person I was hurting was myself.

I called Janice.

“Hi Star, what’s up?”

“Come and get me from the lot—I’ll let them know at the gate you’re arriving.”

“Is everything okay?”

“No. I need to get the hell out of here and go home, but they’re all spying on me. Maybe you can divert their attention and we can work out a plan.” I heard a knock at my door. “Yes?”

“Star? It’s me, John—just checking you’re okay. Jake has instructed me to drive you home.”

Big John the bodyguard. Jake’s bodyguard who may have even been eavesdropping. Who knew? Maybe my trailer was bugged. “I’m busy right now,” I shouted out—“hold on, Janice”—and then, “I’m about to take a shower, John.”

“I’ll be ready in fifteen minutes,” John said.

“Make that one hour,” I yelled through the door—“I want to go over my lines first.”

“Okeydokey, I’ll be right here, waiting outside.”

Waiting outside? Was he just going to sit there without budging? I needed to escape, go to my house—there was no way I’d spend the night at Jake’s, with or without my own bed. Biff could sadly not be bribed—well,
maybe
I could have pushed her, but poor thing, it wouldn’t have been fair. There was no way Big John would let me waltz off with Janet. I called Leo on my cell. Jake trusted him.

“Leo,” I said sweetly.

“What’s up, babe?” he said, in his thick Russian accent.

“Are you still here on the lot?”

“Sure am, what can do you for?” I loved the way he got expressions slightly wrong.

“I don’t want Big John to drive me to Jake’s.”

“Why not?”

“Because,” I whispered, “at times he looks at me in a . . .” I tried to come up with an adjective that wasn’t too incriminating—“in a flirtatious manner and I don’t feel comfortable with him.”

“I talk to Jake—this is bullshit—he’s your bodyguard!”

“He’s not my real bodyguard. My guys have been put on hold for the duration of the movie—the producers didn’t trust them—wanted to hire their own.”

“So what do you want me to do? Tell Jake?”

“No, don’t say a word—and please don’t mention what I said about Big John to anybody, I don’t want him to lose his job. All I want is for you to drive me to my house.”

“Your house has builders, no? Under construction?”

“It’s being remodeled. I want to go and talk to the contractor.”

“It’s six p.m., Star, I doubt he’ll be there, still.”

“Please, Leo.”

“Okay. I’ll call Jake,”

“No!”

“Star, I have to ask Jake first. He’s my boss. Could lose job.”

I groaned. This was a nightmare!

“Look, I’ll call him on my other cell right now.”

“He’ll say no, Leo.”

“I’ll handle it. I can be your bodyguard, just for today.”

C
ASSIE SAT THERE in my trailer, tears in her eyes. I felt like such a bastard, but what could I do?

“First finding out I’m off the job and now this,” she sniveled—“this whole trip has been such a waste of time, not to mention mind-fuck, Jason.”

I held her hand. I was still wet from the shower. “I’m sorry, Cass, Brian said it was a union thing. They had to have someone
union
. I have no idea why they didn’t second guess that. I’m sorry you’re off the job.”

“Well obviously you’re not sorry or you wouldn’t be sending me home!”

“There’s no point you coming all the way to the Badlands to twiddle your thumbs, with nothing to do except stare at the scenery all day.”

“It’s about
us
, Jason, not the bloody job. You wrote me such a beautiful email. I really believed you wanted to make it work between us. ‘Two minds alike,’ you said, ‘two needs make one whole’, you said.”

I bowed my head in shame. Unpardonable behavior—messing with her heart like this. “I’m sorry, Cass.”

“You said it was what you wanted.”

“I did want it, Cass. I swear I did. But we’re such old friends it—”

She waved away my excuse. “You just don’t fancy me. Course you don’t. Why would you when you’ve got beautiful babelicious starlets waiting in the wings?—just that . . . well . . . I thought you’d grown out of that and wanted a
real
relationship based on more than just sex.”

“You deserve better than me, Cassie. Far better. I’d probably be unfaithful.”
Probably. What a joke
. I wondered if she could smell Star on me now. I was no good for any woman, least of all someone like Cassie, who was pure and good, kind and honest. “Cass, about that flat in London—the loft you went to see in Bow that you said you liked . . . I’ll buy it for you.”

Cassie’s mouth pressed into a tight hard line. Then she said, “I don’t want your money, don’t you
get
that?”

“You’re one of my oldest friends, Cass. Friends help each other out. I want to do this for you. It would make me feel better.”

“It’s always about
you
and what
you
want, isn’t it? You can’t buy love and friendship, least of all as a way to alleviate your crap behavior.”

“I’m sorry, Cass, I just want to try to make it up to you somehow.”

“You’re phone’s ringing. Pick it up,” she said.

“It can wait,” I answered quickly, the bastard in me trying to give her some respect. This “break-up” before we’d even “made-up” was ridiculous—the poor woman had only just arrived in LA. My eyes cut a glance at Cassie’s face; her slim lips, her too short hair, and I secretly wished that she were Star. That Star was the “good girl” who’d save me from my philandering ways, who’d rescue me from myself. I wished that, somehow, Star and I could make it work.

“Pick your bloody phone up—if you don’t, I will,” Cassie barked.

I was still wet. Naked, Star’s T-shirt covering my crotch, hoping Cassie wouldn’t notice Star’s prison uniform and her panties tossed on the floor. The panties that I’d probably take to bed with me later.

Cassie slid the buzzing phone across the table at me. I looked at it. It was Leo. “What?” I said. “Make this quick.”

“Star wants to go home,” he said down the line.

“So let her go—she’s done for the day.” Star, Star, Star! Her name was driving me fucking crazy. What sort of a name was Star, anyway? I didn’t even know her real name and here I was obsessing about her. Bloody prick-teaser! Heat rolled through my gut in a nauseous wave. Fury. Despair. Horniness. Desperation. “Look, Leo, I don’t have time for this—you
deal
with it.”

“But she doesn’t want John—”

“Make an executive decision, for fuck’s sake it.
You
deal with her, I’m busy!” I pressed the red button, cutting Leo short. Cassie deserved better than to sit here listening to Star Davis’s whims and fancies. “Sorry, Cass, where were we?”

But it was too late. I followed Cassie’s gaze to where Star’s prison uniform lay on the floor, together with her ivory silk panties.

“What was I thinking?” Cassie said, a fresh tear sliding down her cheek, her eyes fixed on the flimsy knickers that were an excuse for underwear. “I must need my
head
examined. So dumb! I’m such an idiot! Why did I fall for your
bullshit
, Jason?” She stood up, stared at me for a second and then slapped me hard across the face. I felt a ringing in my left ear and a sharp sting, almost relishing the pain.

“Go ahead, Cass, do it again, or
punch
me this time, I deserve it—go on. Punch me in the face, it’ll make you feel better.” I meant what I said. I sat there, helplessly clutching Star’s T-shirt to my groin, but not being able to chase after Cassie—naked as I was—as she stormed out of my trailer yelling:

“You selfish
arsehole
! You know what? You need psychiatric help. You will never be happy until you cure your sex addiction.”

Her prophecy was right. I reflected on my shitty ways for a second and felt like a victim of my manhood.
Men are wired this way. Eyes > brain > dick . . . or . . . brain > eyes > dick. Bypassing higher centers of reason.
Or maybe it was Star’s smell. Whatever, she had a hold on me. She’d intoxicated me—bewitched me, even. I wanted to control my one-track mind but I couldn’t. I felt so bad for Cassie, but all I could think about was Star. Until she was completely mine, I knew I’d go insane.

“I need a SAA meeting,” I muttered to myself, getting up and grabbing some gym clothes out of a duffle bag. “I need to go running and share—get my sorry arse under control. Or rather, Dick Bastardly under control.”