Caught on Camera (Black Towers Book 1) (3 page)

“Shit.” How had this gotten out? The only person who would have had access to it was… Cole.

She should have been long past being able to be hurt by him, but the realization shredded what was left of her heart.

Georgia quickly shoved her phone back into her pocket—she needed to get the hell out of here. But when she looked up she realized that she’d somehow become the center of a very large crowd. A man in a tie and Whole Foods uniform was frantically trying to organize the herd.

“That's not me.” Panic clawed at her throat. And it wasn’t pure denial—that
wasn’t
her. Not the woman she was now, anyway.

“Sure looks like you.” It was the asshole who’d given her his card, smirking right at the front of the crowd who’d assembled, cell phones out, filming away.

“Hey, Georgia!” Something flashed off to her right. Whirling instinctively, Georgia found a vaguely familiar tabloid reporter grinning back at her. His shutter clicked rapidly as she stared at him like a deer in headlights, frozen in place with adrenaline.

This was too much. She needed to get the hell out of here.

“Get out of my way!” Shoving past the reporter, who just laughed, Georgia pulled out her phone and started texting her agent as she ran for the parking lot. The crowd followed, shouting questions and taking photos as Georgia shut herself in her car and quickly locked the doors.

For a moment she sat there, her breath rasping in and out as she took in the fact that even her car was completely surrounded. What was she going to do? She’d never been in this kind of situation before.

It was surreal to think that just ten minutes ago she’d nonchalantly strolled into a grocery store to pick up some lunch. She did this at least three times a week, and she was rarely bothered.

But this—even back when she’d been at the height of her fame, the circus surrounding her hadn’t been like this. This—these people were vultures, out to catch their own fifteen minutes by stomping all over hers.

For one teetering moment she felt her throat burn and her eyes gloss over. She was completely overwhelmed.

“Show us your tits!” Someone banged on Georgia’s car window, and instantly the tears morphed into rage. Slowly she turned her head and locked eyes with the speaker, a teenage boy of about fifteen.

What she felt was channeled out through her eyes, and within moments the kid visibly wilted and faded back into the crowd. Slamming the car into drive, Georgia began to inch forward, slowly enough that if she bumped anyone they wouldn’t get hurt, but steadily enough to show that she was leaving
now
.

At the exit to the parking lot she saw the red and blue flashing lights of two of LA’s finest, bringing out barricades and holding back the crowd. One gestured her through, and she stepped on the gas gratefully, speeding down the street, not relaxing until she’d exited onto the relative anonymity of the highway.

The only thing she’d wanted since leaving rehab was to put the past behind her. But how was she supposed to do that when her most intimate moments were dragged up and put in front of the entire world to see.

Chapter Two

“Yes, I’ve seen the video. And hell yes, I’d do Georgia Evans.”

-Cara DeLeon, model/ actress

“Who released that tape?” Georgia slid into the chair opposite her agent’s desk and crossed her arms. She’d come straight here from Whole Foods, and she was still shaking. “Who the
fuck
released that tape?”

Taking off her thick-rimmed glasses, Sharon leaned back in her chair. Though the woman hadn’t gone so far as to dump Georgia when her career had derailed, it had been a very long time since they’d met face to face. The last time Georgia had seen her, Sharon's dark, curly hair wasn't yet graying at the temples, and she hadn’t yet had fine lines framing her eyes and lips.

“We’ll get that to that in a minute.” Sharon tossed her glasses on her desk. “How are you holding up?”

“I'm fine.” Georgia looked down at her hands, her fingers still trembling, though she wasn’t entirely sure if it was with rage or nerves or both.

“Are you sure?” Sharon’s voice was no-nonsense, as usual, but even though she hadn’t seen the woman in years, Georgia could still hear the thread of concern.

“Well, I just got accosted by some perverts over the arugula at Whole Foods.” Georgia shrugged, then looked up and met Sharon’s eyes. “But am I right in assuming that it’s going to give me some notoriety that will get me work?”

Sharon winced, just a bit, but Georgia caught it.

“Come on, Sharon, let’s not be delicate.” Georgia had jumped off that train long before she’d hit rehab. “This sucks. And when I find out who released that tape, it’s not going to be pretty. But if I’m going to go through this shitstorm in the media, at least let’s try to get me some momentum out of it.”

She had to get some movement, because the savings from her teen years had almost dried up. She’d started acting when she was a kid—it was the only thing she knew how to do.

“Well, you’re not wrong.” Sharon sighed. “Look, I’ve sat on this offer for a bit, because honestly, you’ve been so negative about the last few jobs that I’ve had for you that I didn’t think you were ready for this.”

“They were commercials, Sharon!” Georgia prickled. She knew that beggars couldn’t be choosers… but the truth was that she was ashamed that commercials were all she could get now. She didn’t want to show the world how far she’d fallen.

Though given the events of the last hour, she supposed that ship had sailed.

“Commercials are real jobs, Georgia.” Sharon put her glasses back on, then slid them down her nose to look at her client. “Jennifer sells mineral water. Sofia sells soda. Uma sells purses. Emma sells makeup.”

“A cosmetics campaign is a little different than a yogurt commercial, Sharon.” Frustrated, Georgia flopped back in her chair as Sharon arched an eyebrow.

“Jamie Lee did a yogurt commercial, young lady. Are you going to tell me she’s not a success?”

“
Sharon
.” Georgia knew she was whining, but this had been a hellish day. And unless something drastic happened, and soon, she was going to have to accept the damn yogurt commercial anyway.

“As I was saying. I’ve sat on this for a while.” Sharon gave her a pointed glance. “But with the timing… maybe this could be just what you need.”

She pulled a folder off her desk and opened it. After glancing at the page, she closed it again and handed it to Georgia. “It's for a direct-to-web show.”

“A what?” Frowning, Georgia took the folder and opened it. Inside was a script titled
Love Me Harder
. It was the first script she’d seen in a long time, and her pulse picked up a bit just looking at it.

“A web show. It's the latest thing. You'll shoot ten episodes like a television show, but instead of having it show on the major networks, you'll go straight to the internet.” Sharon sounded pleased; Georgia felt the disappointment like an elephant on her chest.

“Like YouTube?” She swallowed thickly, trying to keep a brave face. “So it’s not actually a big show?”

She didn’t know why she’d even let herself think that it was.

“Yes, YouTube.” Sharon waved her hand in the air. “The first season drums up interest, and if the public likes it enough, they’ll shoot a second season and make people pay for it.”

“I—” Georgia watched Sharon lean her elbows on her desk as something tickled at her brain. Sharon leaned her elbows on her desk.

“The project has already got some great buzz because of the innovative way that they’re releasing it. The producer is Evan Black of Black Productions, and the director is an up and coming star. If this first season makes the drop like everyone is predicting, the second season will launch Black Productions’ new movie and television app.” Sharon’s voice became firmer as she spoke, launching into her sales pitch.

“Television app.” Georgia tested the word. “Like for phones?”

“Phones, tablets . . . any electronic device, really.” Sharon grinned; Georgia didn’t share her enthusiasm.

“But there are already so many apps that do that.”

“Ah, but none that will have a hit show staring Georgia Evans.” Sharon grinned.

Lovely.
Georgia got the feeling her agent was laying it on a little thick. “What kind of show is it?”

“Well, it’s a mashup. Some steamy sex, some noir, but at its heart it’s a romantic comedy.”

“A comedy?” Georgia dropped the folder onto Sharon’s desk, her eyes wide. “I can’t do comedy. That’s… I don’t know… It’s not like I’m Reese or Sandra! This won’t work!”

“You have no choice but to make it work.” Sharon leaned back in her chair and pulled a pack of nicotine gum out of the drawer. She waved the pack of gum at Georgia accusingly. “As soon as you stepped in the door of that rehab clinic, you became a liability. No producer wants a wild card on their picture. And until you prove yourself with a project or two under your belt, you’re still a wild card.”

Georgia ran a hand over her face and fell into her chair. “Then what you're saying is that it's either this independent…” She waved her hand in the air between them. “App thing. Or it's nothing at all.”

Sharon popped a piece of gum in her mouth and shoved the pack back into the drawer. “I’m saying you should feel lucky that this studio seems to want you so badly that they’d pull some crazy stunts to get your interest. Because unless you can call on some of your Hollywood friends to pull some strings and get you on one of their pictures, then this is it.”

Yeah, friends. When Georgia was a famous party girl, she had friends coming out of the woodwork. Paris and Kim had had nothing on her. Now that she was no longer a aprt of that lifestyle, those so-called friends had ridden off into the sunset.

“That won’t happen.” Georgia pinched her lips together, trying to dredge up some enthusiasm.

“Didn't think so.” Sharon let out a long breath. “Look, I commend you for cleaning up. I really do, but it has been a good two years since you've done anything in this industry. Two years with no credits, and you're basically starting over.”

“I know, you warned me. It's just. . .”

“You were hoping I was wrong.”

“Yes.” Georgia slumped her shoulders in defeat.

Sharon chuckled. “Honey, you should know by now that I'm never wrong. I wasn’t wrong when I urged you to go to rehab back then…” She put her finger on the folder, drawing Georgia's attention to it. “And I'm not wrong about this. This is the best opportunity that has come across my desk in weeks. You have a chance to get in with a famous producer, and a rising director. Both of them are well-connected and could make things happen for you.”

“Who's playing the male lead?” If it was a big enough name, then maybe there was hope for this project.

“Doesn't matter.” Sharon waved her hand in dismissal, but Georgia thought she caught a slight hesitation before her agent forged on. “What matters is doing this job and doing it well. Create some buzz and give me something to work with. Then I can go to these big production companies and get you the juicer roles.”

Georgia considered for a moment, then held out her hand. “Okay. I’ll take it.”

“Oh no, honey.” Sharon winced, handing her the folder. “You don’t have the part yet. This is just an audition.”

“What?” Georgia stood abruptly and stared at her agent, her eyes wide with shock. “I thought you told me I had the part.”

“You have an
opportunity
for the part. There’s a difference.” Sharon smiled sympathetically.

“But… I
never
audition.” Georgia closed her eyes, rubbed at her temples.

“Correction: you never
used
to audition.” Sharon sighed and pointed to the folder in Georgia's hands. “Look, here’s the thing. I've been working around the clock for you for weeks. No one is interested. Except the yogurt commercial, and Sunrise. And they’re making you audition, but trust me when I say they want you.”

Georgia stared at her blankly, then sucked in a deep breath. “So this is where I put on my big girl panties and deal with it?”

“That’s right, sugar plum.” Sharon made a shooing motion with her hands as Georgia blankly stared at a picture frame on her desk, one decorated with ribbons. “Sunrise is on the main floor of the building here. You’ve got three hours to prepare, so I suggest you go start reading.”

Sharon looked Georgia up and down, taking in her disheveled appearance. “And maybe comb your hair or something first, okay?”

“Three hours?” Georgia’s eyes widened. That wasn’t nearly enough time to prepare for an audition.

“It was the best I could do, Georgia. I’m sorry. They’re on a really tight production schedule.”

“Okay.” Georgia swallowed the lump in her throat and glanced at her folder. “I'll try my best.”

Sharon winked at her and put her glasses back on. “You can do this. Trust me, they want you.”

Georgia clutched the folder to her chest and headed to the elevators. A comedy? She’d never done comedy before and didn’t know if she could pull it off. A romantic lead was even worse.

Georgia hadn’t been with a man since Cole. What did she know about romance?

Her stomach lurched as the elevator descended. She didn’t have a choice—she was going to trust Sharon and give this project her all.

The sleek glass doors of the Black Towers elevator opened and Georgia stepped out into the bustling lobby. Standing on her toes, she looked across the expanse of marble and glass to where the doors of Sunrise stood.

In three hours, she’d be walking through those doors, and hopefully when she walked out of them she’d have an actual job again.

She had to do this.

Georgia closed her eyes for a moment, trying to channel some kind of inner zen that still eluded her, even after years in California.

When she opened them again, her eyes zeroed in on the back of a tall, lean man with shaggy golden hair and broad shoulders emphasized in a snug leather jacket. Something about the way he moved had alarm bells clanging in her head as the man walked out the front of Black Towers, a suited security guard in tow.

Surely that hadn’t been Cole.
Georgia hadn’t come face to face with him since they’d broken up, and what were the chances that they would just run into each other on the day that their sex tape had broken loose?

As soon as the thought zipped through her head, Georgia shook it off. Cole wasn’t here, this was just her mind playing tricks on her because half of the world had just seen one of their more intimate moments played out on smart phone screens.

She needed to focus on getting this job, and that meant she had to clear her mind. No sex tape, no negativity, no self-doubt.

And especially no Cole Anderson.

***

The ride to Camden Heights was short, and as the limo pulled into the familiar gated community, every muscle in Cole's body tightened in anger and frustration.

Breakups could get nasty. This was not news to him. But what Regina had done by releasing the sex tape… that was a whole new level of low.

“Regina!” Cole channeled his pent-up rage into his voice as he tugged open the front door to the apartment and stormed inside.

Regina was home—he could feel her presence in the charged air. Stalking through the immaculate foyer and contemporary sitting area, he found nothing. Fisting his hands, he stormed into the kitchen, then turned and went the opposite direction to the bathroom and bedroom.

Still nothing.

When he emerged out into the hall, soft weeping could be heard from the direction of the second bedroom. His gut instinct was to soften, to feel bad for the woman he’d lived with until last night.

Then he remembered what she’d done. Plus, he knew Regina, and he knew that she was like a shark. Any hint of softness and she’d be out for blood. Grinding his teeth, Cole shoved through the door. What he saw made his mouth fall open with shock.

This bedroom was his man cave. A large, mahogany desk sat along the far wall, with framed posters of his more popular movies behind it. Along the right wall sat a large potted plant and a bay window, and along the left hand wall lined were shelves stacked with scripts, awards, and trinkets he had picked up from various projects.