Hollywood Rebel by Misti Murphy
Chapter Four
Rebel
My best friend joins me at the wall of glass as I watch the little beauty damage my perfect lawn with tent pegs, of all things. “She’s determined.”
Ethan’s been one of my closest pals since I started in Hollywood almost a decade ago. We’ve partied together, acted together, and seen some incredibly crazy shit, but watching a girl put up a tent on my front lawn is a first for both of us.
Not that there haven’t been a few who have tried, but to actually manage to get past my agent, manager, and security… that takes some level of brains and balls that my usual groupies do not possess.
I polish off my beer as she gets down on her knees. Her butt jiggles in her little black pencil skirt as she hammers one of those steel rods into the ground and ties the rope off. That sexy ass was my first introduction to this crazy woman. I’d seen her leaning against the wall, with her ass stuck out like she was waiting for me… I’d wanted to drag her into my bed and explore every inch of her with my hands and tongue and teeth. Before she pushed me away and totally deflated my boner with that scared look on her face. The one I’d convinced myself was fake because she wanted to use me to make herself famous.
Even now, seeing her crawling around on her hands and knees, I still want to pull her hair and push into her from behind. The whole conundrum chafes my dick. The fear might have been real after all. But she still wants to use me. Just not in the way I’d envisaged. Or in the other much more pleasurable way I would have been totally on board with. “She said she’s with Knightly PR.”
“Who brings a tent to a meeting?” Rogue eyeballs the hot little snack while she pokes one of the poles through the loops on the material that will form her shelter.
“She’s batshit crazy.” I move away from the window as my little brother Riot, and my buddy Linc—the tripod to my trio with Ethan—push in to check her out. I don’t know what it is about her, but I’ve wanted her since I saw her. She was adorably cute and giggly that night. Sassy. Outspoken. And those curves—in a sea full of stick figures—they do things for me I’d rather not admit to in a room full of my brothers and friends.
“I’d tap that,” Rogue drawls.
“No you fucking won’t,” I snap as I pull another beer from the fridge and locate my phone on the kitchen counter.
Rogue narrows his gaze on me. It’s possible I’ve never laid down the law with him before. Normally, I don’t care who he screws with. But this one… she’s not up for discussion.
“She’s trouble. Obviously.” I knock the cap off my bottle with my thumb. “She’s practically stalking me. She’s either a lawsuit or a baby momma waiting to happen. Not worth the hassle.”
He shakes his shoulders out like he’s got the heebie–jeebies. “I’ve got a date to get ready for anyway.”
“You should call security.” Riot returns to his seat at the poker table where I was confiscating all their money before the interruption.
Linc drops down next to him with a fresh beer and picks up his cards. Ethan lights a cigar and tosses a couple of chips in the middle of the table. “Raise.”
I frown as I hover my thumb over my screen and unlock it. Glance out over the lawn where she’s almost managed to set up the tent by herself. She stops long enough to gather her silky red curls into a fist and tie it off with a hair elastic. There’s a determination to her that’s… interesting. I kind of want to see how long it will take her to give up.
I speed dial my manager instead as I make my way to my study and away from the exuberant chatter of my guests. My toes sink into the plush carpet, and I growl down the line the minute he answers. “Ollie, my idiot manager, what is with the girl camped out on my front lawn?”
“I told her your answer would be no.” He laughs and then abruptly stops, probably to inhale from the Newport Blue that’s no doubt in his right hand.
“Of course I’m saying fucking no.” I thrust a hand into my hair and leave it there. Ollie’s been with me since the very beginning so I give him some leeway, but this time he’s taken it too far. “You should have told her that. She’s put her tent up on my front lawn like a damn stalker.”
“Really?” He sounds curious, like he didn’t expect this little prank to go in this direction. “The girl has gumption. I like it.”
“I don’t. Come the fuck out here and get rid of her.”
“I’m not going to do that.”
“You work for me.” I smack my palm on the desk. “I can fire you.”
“Hmm. That’s true.” He inhales and I hear the crinkling of burning paper before he exhales. “Let me know what you decide.”
“What?” Is he hard of hearing these days? “I said I’ll fire you.”
“I heard you,” he says. “But you’re not working, Rebel. You’re practically a hermit. You don’t need me anyway. What am I going to do? Manage your empty whisky bottle collection?”
“It’s only temporary,” I snap.
“Is it? It’s been months since your release and more than a year since you had a script offer. Longer since your last job.”
“That’s the business,” I retort. “One minute you’re hot, then you aren’t. Then you cycle back.”
“I can point out hundreds of careers where that wasn’t the case. And plenty where that star stayed up for decades.”
“I’ll get back there.” It’s only a matter of time.
“Sure,” he says as though the conversation is exhausting to him. “If you haven’t pissed everyone off and set fire to all your connections.”
“I have never set fire to anything,” I snap.
“No, but you urinated on James Bilson’s Afghan hounds,” he reminds me.
Yeah, I might have been off-my-face drunk at the time. I sink into the chair behind my desk and rest my head in my hand. It was a huge mistake. Especially since James Bilson owns one of the biggest production companies in LA. It was a bad time in my life. “Damnit, it was years ago.”
When are people going to stop talking about it?
“I know how you feel about the idea of having someone tweak your reputation for the media, but it’s time to consider it. Hire the girl. Let her help you.”
“Fuck that.”
“Well, it’s either that or retire.”
“I’m not retiring,” I grump. Christ, I’m twenty-six. Too young to have nothing to do but sit on my ass all day. Besides, I love acting. “Acting is my calling.”
“Then listen to what she has to say. Consider changing your brand. Because otherwise, I’m telling you, no one is calling.”
“Fine,” I snap. I hate that he has a point. “I’ll think about it.”
—*—
Gravel crunches under the soles of my running shoes as Riot and I take off at a light jog. It’s still early, barely past dawn. The air is crisp, and my body is taut with energy I need to burn off. Too much sitting around waiting for my next gig has me on edge from the moment I wake to the moment I collapse on my mattress at night, an empty bottle of whisky cradled in my arms.
“How far do you want to run?” Riot asks. He runs as much as I do, but our reasons are different.
Rogue, on the other hand, likes to get his exercise in the shape of a woman in his bed. And there never seems to be a shortage.
I used to be like that before I spent all that time locked up. These days I could care less about who’s bed hopping with whom, or whether there’s a woman in my bed. Especially since every time I lay down on my cool, crisp sheets I find myself fantasizing about a sassy little brat who had her lips on my cock. And even though it was but a facsimile, I have no trouble imagining her lips wrapped around the real deal while I stroke myself off. Until, of course, I remember the look on her face when I suggested she pleasure me.
“Eight,” I mutter. And I’m going to have a word with Rogue about not bringing women back to my house. He has his own place. He can use that.
“Eight miles?” Riot frowns.
“Did I stutter?” I raise a brow at him.
He laughs. “Got some pent-up aggression to work out?”
“Something like that.” We swing past the tent still set up on the lawn. Last night was chilly. I’m almost surprised she’s still here.
“You didn’t call security,” Riot observes.
“I thought she’d leave.” But she hasn’t, and now I’m curious about what her next step will be.
The tent fly opens, and she peeks her head out. Her flamboyant bed head hair puffs up underneath the hood of a onesie like it’s its own universe. Her green orbs widen under a yellow beak and pair of eyes.
The rest of her emerges from the tent opening at a rapid pace. She half-trips over one of the guide ropes in her effort to chase after me.
“Oh Good Lord.” Riot laughs as she tugs on a pair of joggers. “Is that a Penguin onesie?”
“I think so.” I smirk. This girl thinks she has a hope in hell of aiding me with my reputation? I don’t think so. But damn, if the idea of snuggling up to a giant penguin doesn’t warm the cockles of my sex drive.
“Damn, she’s cute,” Riot glances over his shoulder as we continue toward the gate house.
I love my younger brother, but that shit makes me clench my fist and thump him in the arm.
“It’s like that is it?” He rubs his bicep, not particularly perturbed over the casual violence. As kids we did way worse to each other on a daily basis. I’ll never forget the time Rogue snuck up on me and slapped the end of a crowbar over my head. Even now there’s a slight irregularity in the shape of my skull.
“No. That’s for being stupid,” I mutter. So what if she’s totally adorable dressed as a penguin while she jog-wobbles after us? “It’s not professional. And even if it was, I don’t need help with my reputation.”
“I don’t think that’s what you want help with,” he retorts.
“Mr. Maddox,” she calls out as she gets closer. Her arms flap like little wings as she tries to get us to stop. “I want to talk to you about what I can do for you.”
“No,” I yell back at her.
“I want to help you fix your image.” She puffs as she closes in on us.
“Nope.” I put my middle finger up over my shoulder as I power off.
Riot keeps up with me, but little penguin can eat my dust.
—*—
“Mr. Maddox,” she calls as she hurries toward the garage.
“Damn it.” I thought for a second I was going to get away clean, but she must have heard the Impala’s engine as the automatic door opened. I check the time on my TAG Hauer aquaracer. I can’t miss my appointment because this chick won’t quit. I nudge the nose clear of the garage.
“Mr. Maddox,” she calls again.
She has to know that I’m fully aware of her as she runs across my lawn in a pant suit and heels. I kind of miss the penguin onesie, but after the first time I managed to catch her off guard, she’s been on her game and on me like fleas on a dog. Real irritating.
“Rebel Maddox.” She slams her palms down flat on the hood of my Impala, forcing me to mash my foot down on the brake.
I grit my teeth at the rough treatment of my prize possession, a 1964 model Lowrider, Emmy. Not even the gaping neckline of the top she wears under her jacket can keep me from wanting to throttle her. Those are nice tits though. Encased in a buttercup yellow bra that I’d really like to see the rest of. Does she have matching panties to that thing? I shake my head, but it doesn’t really dispel my curiosity. Still… she’s touching freaking Emmy and I can’t let that slide.
Shifting Emmy into neutral, I yank on the handbrake before I jump out of the car. “If you’ve dented or scratched my car… so help me—”
She narrows her gaze at me and taps one ringed finger against the immaculate paint before a smile slowly curves her lips. “We need to talk.”
I get the gut wrenching feeling that she’s not above blackmail or bribery. “I’ve already told you I’m not interested.”
“And I think you need me,” she says in a forceful tone that makes the delicate muscles in her throat strain. “I think you’re aware of the fact that you do. And I think that’s why you haven’t had me manhandled off your property.”
“Do you want to be manhandled?” I start pushing up the sleeves on my Henley.
She blinks but doesn’t move as I march toward her. “You wouldn’t. Touch me.”
Was that one sentence or two? Because I would very much like to believe I heard that heartbeat pause and inflection and read them correctly. I’m not the only one fighting some ridiculous attraction between us. Either way. “Oh, wouldn’t I?”
“No,” she breathes. Still with her damn palms glued to Emmy.
I snort under my breath. “Don’t think you’re safe because I didn’t touch you the last time you asked me to let you go.”
She rips her hands off my car as I reach her, tucks them into her armpits. I almost smile at that, though the flash of fear in her eyes has me feeling like I’ve sucked on a lemon. Still, it was easier than I thought it was going to be. I honestly had no fucking clue how I was going to get her to move without touching her.
She glares at me stubbornly. “You need someone to manage your brand, and I am not going anywhere until you agree to let it be me.”
I jog back around Emmy and climb behind the wheel again. “Too bad, I have somewhere else to be.”
“Let me come with you,” she says. “I need five minutes to convince you of what I can do.”
There is no way in hell I’m taking her anywhere. I hold up a closed fist. “You have to the count of five to get out of the way of my car.”
“Or you’ll run me over?” She gapes at me.
I didn’t say that, and I’m not a fucking monster, but if she wants to believe that was where I was heading with this conversation, that works for me. As long as she gets out of my way.
I point a finger at the sky. “One.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“Two.” The middle finger joins the first.
“It’s five minutes.” She huffs.
“Three.” Up goes the ring finger.
“You’re impossible.”
“Four.” And there’s the pinkie. “Do you really want to test me?”
“This isn’t over,” she announces as she scoots out of my way.
I grin as I pass her. No, I don’t think it is.
—*—
“Are you seriously going to leave her out there?” Ethan asks as we sit in Adirondacks underneath the shelter of the portico while we enjoy a bottle of whisky and a pizza. Rogue is out on a date tonight and Riot’s band has a standing gig so it’s just me and Ethan, Summer the stalker, and the pissing rain.
“It’s hardly a hurricane.” I pour another deliberate measure of Ace. Pick it up and idly swirl the amber liquid around the inside of the heavy glass while I ponder her next move.
So far she’s chased me on my run three mornings in a row, although only the first time did she wear that ridiculous onesie. Since then, she’s been ready for me. Thankfully she can’t keep up, but it’s cute that she tries. And other than the afternoon I had an appointment with my parole officer, the rest of the time I’ve avoided her by staying inside.
Now that it’s pouring and I’m mere yards away, I’m tempted to see how much she’s willing to brave to get what she wants.
“We’ve had more rain in the last hour…” Ethan says as he reads the weather info on his phone. “…than we’ve had in the last three months.”
“Good.” I swallow the liquid and relish the slight burn at the back of my throat as it goes down before climbing to my feet. I thought it would be fun to sit out here and watch her try to deal with the rain and the wind, but she’s hunkered down inside that canvas shelter and apparently my being right in front of her isn’t a good enough temptation to drag her out of it. I’m starting to think the only way she’s coming out is if it collapses around her.
“Hopefully she’ll finally get the hint and leave me alone.” I pick up the bottle and stalk toward the door. “I think I want to sit in the hot tub while I finish this booze.”
“Sounds like a plan.” Ethan closes the pizza box and brings the rest of the pie with him as we exchange our prime view of her sodden campground for the back deck.
Fat droplets ripple the surface of the pool when they land. They soak the loungers and tiled entertainment area beyond the end of the covered deck, but the hot tub is protected from the elements by the deck roof.
I turn on the jets and strip off my shirt and sweatpants, before planting my hand on the deck and leaping over the rim of the hot tub. Ethan grabs a six pack of beers from the fridge on the deck and sets them down within reach before he climbs in too.
Resting his head on the ledge he sighs. “This was a great idea.”
“Yeah.” The jets work the tension from my muscles as I discard the rest of the contents of my whisky bottle to crack open a beer, but something is still irritating me. I can’t put my finger on it. I lie back and shut my eyes and practice taking a few deep breaths. I’d probably not be so agitated if I had scripts to read or something to do other than drink and run. Run and drink. But aside from one little foray to see my parole officer, turning down Summer has been the highlight of my day four days in a row.
“Hey there,” Ethan says in that disarmingly charming way he does with women.
A shadow slides across my face, and I crack open one eyelid to find Summer standing at the edge of the hot tub. Water drips from her weighted-to-almost-flat-hair. It beads on her eyelashes and the tip of her nose. She wipes at her face with a sodden sleeve as I let my gaze drop lower. There might not be an inch of her dry at this point. I lick my lips as my brain automatically goes to how wet I’d like her to be.
It’s stupid really, thinking about her like that. Hell, I gave her the opportunity and she made it clear that she’s not the kind of girl I want to fuck around with. Well, not in that way anyway. “What do you want, little girl?”
She crosses her arms over her chest, the drenched material of her shirt pulls taut over her tits, and I don’t need my imagination to see the outline of her nipples. Those hard little nubs stick out like candles on a birthday cake.
“Never mind him.” Ethan rests his forearms on the rim of the tub and smiles at her. Tugs on the leg of her sweatpants. “You look a little…wet.”
“Damn it, Ethan.” My hands form fists on my knees under the water.
“I’m just pointing out the obvious,” he says.
“The tent collapsed.” She huffs out a frustrated breath.
“Poor baby,” I say, and it comes out more edgy than I wanted because the tent she can’t see in my lap is very much erect. “Are you ready to leave now?”
She shakes her head, her eyes glistening a little brighter than they normally do. “No. Not until you agree to let me help you with your career.”
“What aren’t you getting?” I sit up and take a pull from my beer bottle before wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. “I don’t need your help. And I don’t give a fuck about my reputation.”
“Well, you should.” She stomps her foot and those emerald orbs flash with fire. “Hollywood’s given up on you.”
Suddenly the jets aren’t doing a thing for the tension inside me. There’s no way I’m going to sit here and listen to some bossy little bitch tell me that my career is over. Leaping over the edge, I stalk toward the house, dripping water everywhere. Grab a towel from the freshly fluffed and folded pile in the storage cabinets that partition the hot tub from the outdoor lounge.
“You can join me if you like,” Ethan says to her.
My jaw cracks. I scrub that terry cloth over my locks so hard I wince.
“No, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she tells him, all the while her gaze burns into my back. Her steps thud on the decking as she walks to me.
I throw a towel at her, and it hits her in the face.
She manages to catch it before it falls to the floor. Lets the material unfurl and then starts to ring the water out of her hair.
I don’t apologize. She’d never believe it was an accident. And honestly, I’m not sure that it was. I’m too agitated to be able to tell.
“Listen, that probably wasn’t the best way to broach the subject,” she says. “But I felt that you would appreciate it if I were blunt with you.”
“That was fucking blunt.” I wrap the towel around my hips and retrieve my beer with a shaky hand. “But you don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You haven’t had work in over eighteen months. You haven’t been offered a script. Even before you went to prison. The world has changed these last few years and you haven’t. Either you optimize your brand, or you think about…” She shrugs. “I don’t know. Moving to a ranch in Alaska and running cattle for fun.”
“Is that right?” I drawl, needling her a little more.
“You’re supposed to be a rebel, not a lost cause,” she retorts. “Stop being so stubborn and let me help you woo Hollywood back.”
She’s not wrong about my current employment status, and I can sense she’s getting to the end of her rope. At some point she’s going to give up on me too, and hell, I like having her around. She makes all this time I’m spending at home not so boring.
“Bah.” I toss the wet towel on the wicker lounge. I’m so going to regret this. “Come on, little girl. We better find you something dry to wear. We’re going out.”