Hollywood Hot Mess (31 page)

I twist the rolled bill between my fingers and take a deep breath, letting it all the way out before I toss my hair over my shoulder and lean down.

“Damn it, Carly!” Maria slaps again, this time at the white line, and turns it to a cloud of dust that disappears between us.

“What the fuck?!” I yell, and lunge at her like a tiger.

“Carly, stop it!” she yells back, and deflects my blow, circling her arms around me, pinning mine down as she holds me too close to struggle. You would think she’s the one on drugs with this seemingly superhuman strength.

“Let me go!” I huff and break away from her grip. A second later I stumble out of the bathroom, Maria hot on my heels.

“I’m not going to let you do this, Carly,” she says right in my ear, easily matching my stride as we fly down the hallway toward the humming ballroom.

Scanning the crowd I see him, staring back at me over some conversation with Heather hanging on his arm, drink in hand. A ghost of concern whispers across his face, but is immediately gone when he turns back to laugh at whatever the man in front of him said. Fuck this.

I’m in a dead heat with Maria, sprinting toward the bar.

“Gin on the rocks with a twist of lime,” I say, pushing some penguin out of my way as I belly up to the mahogany bar. How did I think I could ever be a part of his world? He’s studied me all night, but hasn’t breathed a word in my direction since the red carpet. He’s winked at me a few times, but after I mouthed,
fuck off
, he quit.

From across the room another set of eyes watches me. Soft brown eyes that follow my every move even when they are squarely focused on someone else. I’ve tried to ignore them all night. I can’t anymore. I sweep a slow look in his direction only to find that dangerous smile of his staring right back at me. Of course Spence is here. His pockets are some of the deepest in Hollywood. I start to smile back and wave him over when I see Devon over his shoulder. Devon’s look has changed. No longer is he flirting with me; he is either pissed or concerned. I’m not sure which, but I know the look isn’t a good thing. I turn back to the bar and pound my palm against the wood to get some service.

“Maria Rhodes?” the man I shoved out of the way asks, recovering from the shock of our green and red silk dresses flying at him like a rabid Christmas tree.

“Yes,” she answers, trying her best to compose herself as she drags a few fingers across her neck at the bartender and nods at me. Damn her. The bartender leaves. My rage is seconds from third orbit. Maria snakes her arm around my shoulders so I can’t leave.

“I can’t believe my good luck. I was just talking to Melvin LaCroix about you the other day.” He smiles and traces his fingers slowly down her arm. At the mention of Melvin’s name and Maria’s lack of revulsion to this asshole’s uninvited touch, I freeze. “He told me your favorite restaurant is Spago. I would love to take you sometime.” His eyes are all soft and dreamy, taking her in like water on a hot summer day.

“Sure.” She smiles and nods, repaying the compliment of a suggestive up-downing. “A girl has to eat.”

“Great. I’ll call Melvin next week and get your number.” His hand slides down the soft white length of her arm. He disappears into the crowd.

“What the fuck was that?” I demand, breaking out of her embrace.

“What the fuck was that?” She throws a hand in the direction of the bar and then plants it on her hip.

“You’re letting Melvin whore you out to all his friends like some kind of pimp?” I hiss between my teeth so no one notices.

“No!” She glares back at me. “I’m trying to get out of this shit-hole life I’ve wound up in. I thought you were too!”

“At least I’m not whoring my way out of it,” I say, causing her nostrils to flare the way they always used to when we had a stage fight.

“Aren’t you though?” Her voice is an ice cube sliding down my back.

“Fuck off, Maria,” My
f
sends a spray of spit over her. I grab the first drink my hand finds and toss it down my throat. Martini. Not my favorite, but it’ll do.

“You know, Carly. You haven’t changed at all. You’re still the spoiled little bitch you’ve always been.” She turns on her heel and disappears into the crowd. I grab at another drink on the bar beside me, much to the shock of the disco-ball-dressed blonde.

“Fuck off,” I fume in her direction before her vodka soda hits my belly.

“Carly,” a voice whispers hot in my ear. My insides leap to the moon, certain it’s Devon.

Chapter Thirty-One

It’s Tiny. He’s appeared from the shadows in a tux and secret service—type earpiece.

“Why don’t you come with me? I’ve called your car.” He grabs me under the arm in a way I can’t escape. Struggling only tightens his grip.

“Where are we going?” I ask as he drags me down a hallway to a side door. He doesn’t answer. We end up on a balcony overlooking industrial air conditioners and catering vans. “Devon wants to talk to you.” His voice is clipped and low. But to me? It sounds like a chorus of angels singing.

Devon wants to talk to me! He’s coming to me! I knew if I pouted long enough he would. I hug myself, partly because it’s cold out here, partly to try to quell the nerves, but mostly because I’m trying to keep myself from doing a victory dance like a fool.

But when Devon slips past Tiny, who quickly falls into position to guard the door, I know I haven’t won.

“What the hell are you thinking?” He grabs my arms and shakes me so hard a few hairpins shake loose. I struggle to free myself, but chugging two fully loaded cocktails has gone to my head and I just don’t have enough fight. “Stop it, Carly! Stop it!” he whispers into my ear, and pulls me against him like second skin.

I collapse into him, no longer wanting to fight the arms that feel like home. The only home I’ve known in this world. Of course I’m crying. I never used to cry; I always found a way to forget. But that doesn’t work anymore. Not with Devon.

“Shh...” He rubs my back, rocking me and cooing like he might to Angel after a bad dream. In the distance, cars hum down the streets of Hollywood. Night has fallen, making the city lights glow. I breathe deeply, wallowing in the lavish scent of him. The party seems miles away. It’s just us, on the tiny little balcony watching the world pass by like we did in Malibu.

“What are you doing, Carly?” He breaks the embrace to walk me away from the door to one of the three cement walls of the balcony so we can’t be seen. His hands never leave me, propping me against the wall, protecting my bare back from the cold, rough surface with his sleeves, leaning into me so I can feel him...down there. A whisper of a kiss finds my forehead and I sigh against the fists I have balled against his chest.

Our lips find each other, just like they always do. In these killer heels I’m already on my tiptoes. His tongue slides over my lips and swirls around mine. It’s heaven to feel his touch again—I drink greedily from his kisses like a starving child—but it isn’t enough. My heart is beating out of my vagina and there’s only one answer for that. I hike one leg up around his middle, desperate to feel the part of him that always wants me. That’s all I need. Just to know that he’s still mine, that he still wants me, regardless of what the fools inside and his bitch fake-girlfriend might think.

I pull at the lapels of his tux, fisting them in my hands. Bouncing on the toe still touching the ground, trying to get enough momentum to lock both legs around his midsection. As I do this, one hand slinks down the soft fabric of his immaculate tux in search of what I really want. If I can get it in my hands—or better yet my mouth—he’ll be all mine for at least fifteen minutes.

“Easy, girl.” He chuckles in my ear and pulls my hand away. “You taste like vodka.” He licks his lips, smacking at the taste of me. This twists my insides like a rag.

“Are you mad?” I whisper in a pouty little voice. Maybe he should spank me for being so naughty.

“Disappointed.” He nibbles down my jaw and releases me back to the ground, holding my waist while I get my balance. “Not mad.”

“Why aren’t you mad?” I wasn’t intentionally drinking to piss Devon off. I was drinking to forget my heartbreak; getting his attention was a bonus.

“When has being mad ever worked on you?” He’s right, but it still pisses me off. Isn’t he supposed to care about me? Aren’t we all here tonight to raise money for a home that will keep girls like me from backsliding into their old ways? Maria cared enough to try to stop me. Even that bitch, whore, disco-ball-dress-wearing idiot in the bathroom did. So why doesn’t Devon?

My eyes narrow, studying his silhouette in the darkness. There’s a chill in the air and I hug myself tightly, making a big production out of my chills, thinking he will surely offer me his jacket. He doesn’t. Instead he looks at his watch.

“You’re ignoring me,” I pout, resorting to my old trick to get his attention since nothing else is.

“I’m kinda busy, Carly.” He laughs his slow, soft chuckle that reverberates in my chest. “It’s a fundraiser. These people won’t give me the money if I don’t ask.”

“But you said you wanted me here.”

“Of course, I want you here.”

“Why? So everyone can be horrified remembering how fucked up my life turned out and fork over the big bucks to keep poor girls from following in my footsteps?” My arms are crossed in front of my chest, hating that the taste of his kiss still lingers on my tongue when I’m so pissed at him.

“Carly,” he scolds, and I wonder if he’s going to reason with me like an adult or toss me over his knee and spank me like a child. He does neither, checking his phone instead. I gasp and back away from him, unable to believe he’s actually doing this right now. Do I really mean so little to him? My chest tightens, heavy with fear, and I hate the familiar feeling. All I need is the anger that used to boil my blood and I’ll be my old self again. And the way he’s ignoring me? I’ve just about found it.

“I’m never going to be enough, am I?” My hands fly to my hips. It’s not really a question I have to ask. Standing there with my heart on the ground between us—waiting to see if he’ll pick it up or crush it to a million pieces—I know. He’s not at all rattled right now, and I’m in Chernobyl-scale meltdown mode.

“You’re more than enough,” he coos. The blue screen light bathes his features in a beautiful way, but I don’t hear the words of love that dripped in my ears like hot honey all week in Malibu before
she
came back.

“Then why can’t you be with me instead of her?” I’ll force him to this if I have to.

“You know why.” He sighs with boredom, and drags an exasperated hand through his hair like this was worked out days ago. We may have reached a resolution, but it’s far from solved.

“Because it’s too real? Because you can’t handle someone loving—oh how did you put it?—the man instead of the myth?” My body lunges toward him, fists clenched at my sides ready to swing. The hate-filled stare I spill over him makes him cringe.

He’s totally caught off guard by my rage. But only for a moment. His eyes go all dark and wild. I finally pissed him off enough to get his attention away from that damned phone. He straightens to his full height, towering over me, the muscle at his jaw working overtime. I feel small and helpless, but I’m not backing down. Seconds pass. We hold each other’s glare.

“You know exactly what this is. I was completely honest with you. You’re the one who chose to stay.”And that sucks the wind right out of my smart-ass sails. He’s right. This isn’t just about him.

“But on the beach. You said...” My internal monologue escapes the filter while I try to find my way through the jungle of his words.
What did he say?
My memory has slipped, distracted by the alcohol heating my veins.

“I said I was crazy.” He finishes his own words. “And I am. I didn’t want to cross that line with you for this very reason. Don’t you see how much I’m already giving you?” His face goes soft, possibly encouraged by the fact that I’m obviously losing my grip on this situation. He comes to me, as if to tuck me into his arms. But I spin away and leave him grabbing at air.

“You aren’t giving me anything.” I snarl like I’m possessed. Maybe I am. “I’m offering you something real, Devon. Something Heather never can. And you don’t want it!” My hand is over my heart, because it’s burning like a smoldering ember in my chest. I don’t want him to know what his rejection is doing to me, so I slap my hands down to my sides. The sharp clap of skin on silken skin makes us both jump.

His eyes skim down my body. He rubs the back of his neck as he looks to the ground for answers. The answer’s right in front of him, but he’s too blind to see me.

When his eyes return they’ve glazed over. Empty. He lets out the breath he was holding, slowly, as if to calm himself. His hand falls away from his neck, sliding over his chest and abdomen, smoothing anything that may be out of place, coming to rest in his pants’ pockets.

“I’m giving you all I can and more than I should.” He brings a hand up, tracing over his lips absently. “Don’t act so surprised. How many times did I try to stop this? Try to keep from hurting you? But you were so insistent.” His eyes narrow. I’ve never heard his voice like this, all feral and hissing. He’s always so suave, so seductive. Even on-screen I never hear his voice full of so much... Oh what is it full of? “Don’t blame me that it’s gotten too real for
you
!” Castigating. That’s what it is.

“I love you, Devon.” It’s all I have left. My bag of tricks is empty.

“Then why are you insisting on the one thing you know I can’t give you?” His hands are in his pockets, his shoulders rising to emphasize his point.

“Can’t or won’t?” I clench my teeth to still my trembling chin, daring anything below it to make the slightest move toward him.

“Don’t push me into this corner, Carly. You don’t want me to answer that question.” His navy-rimmed eyes are darker and colder than the iceberg that sank the Titanic.

I don’t need his answer. I already know. I’ve known all along, but I was stupid enough to hope. Stupid enough to think that maybe the great Devon Hayes needed someone real in this life just as much as the troubled Carly Klein.

He sighs loudly and moves to take my arms. I step away from his embrace. “Look, take my car. Tiny will drive you home. I’ll come to you when I’m done here. This is not the time or place to talk about this. Let’s calm down or we may say things we’ll regret.”

“I don’t think I want to hear anything you have to say.”

“Not here, Carly. Not like this.” His face is drawn tight and for the first time all night a hint of remorse darkens his navy eyes like maybe he’s realized I’m slipping from his grip. But it isn’t enough. Not for me it isn’t.

Every sense in my body flees. I’m numbed to the point that I no longer care—it’s a familiar feeling. I’ve reached the vast free-fall that comes before every shattering crash in my life. A moment when the world stills before it comes to an end. A handful of time that slips through open fingers.

Thankfully, the full-on “poor little Carly Klein” rage bursts back into my quivering body, propping up all the crumbling walls and breaking bones inside me. I can’t come apart like this. Not in front of him. Not after he’s made this choice. I grit my teeth and steel my eyes, daring a single drop to streak down my cheek. I’m Carly Klein, damn it! He’s not going to do this to me!

I rip the damned golden-caged pearl from my neck and hurl it at him. His body sucks around it like a football player hugging a caught pass.

“Add that to your fucking tally tonight! Maybe it will keep some poor girl from making the same stupid mistakes I have!” My fists grip green silk to keep from launching into him the way I want to. Partly because I know the dam I’m building would be crushed by his touch, but also because I refuse to let him know how deeply he’s wounded me.

Finally, I have his undivided attention. He opens his closed palm to look at the necklace he made for me, broken and slipping through his fingers. Dismay and anger fight for the right to darken his brow, but I don’t stick around long enough to see which one wins. I spin on my heel and push through the glass door, using it to knock an unsuspecting Tiny off balance so he can’t grab me.

“Carly...” Devon calls after me, but I’m running now, and if he chases after me it will make a scene he can’t afford. I know this, and his calls quickly fade down the carpeted hallway. I’m moving faster than seems humanly possible, so fast I collide with the one body that dares to get in my way.

“Whoa, baby girl. What’s the rush?” Two hands steady my shoulders, stopping me and pulling me close. His cologne envelops me like a blanket and it is this old memory alone that breaks the dam I’ve been building. When I look at him, I can no longer hold back the tears. Spence’s arms grip tighter, holding me against him, chasing the bad things away like he always used to. Devon stands at the end of the hallway, laser focused on our embrace, hands in his pockets, looking like he is ready to hit something. His jaw is clenched so tightly his teeth must be breaking, but what do I care. Cuddled against Spence’s chest I feel safe for the first time all night. Spence once-overs Devon then turns to me, immediately understanding without any explanation. He takes my chin, gently pulling my attention to him. Tears flow hot down my cheeks.

“Can you get me out of here?” I ask in a desperate voice as the world swirls and closes in on me.

“Absolutely,” he says, immediately recognizing the need in my voice. He whips out his phone, mumbling something in an urgent whisper. Devon has disappeared. Spence rests a hand on my shoulder and I jump. “My car will be out front in two minutes. You might want to clean up before you face the press line again.”

By some miracle of fate I have ended up in front of the ladies’ bathroom. I duck inside for two seconds to straighten my makeup in the mirror. Shocked faces greet me, obviously having witnessed my antics earlier. I smile sweetly at the woman in the disco ball dress—because of course she’s in here powdering her nose again. She’s such a fucking idiot. A reality proved by the fact that she’s placed a small brown glass vial on the counter while she washes her hands. Shooting a wink her way in the mirror, I snatch the vial and make a run for it. My tears are dry now, all the sadness in me turning into the self-destructive rage that fueled the old Carly. A girl I’ve missed for way too long.

I burst through the front doors only to find the damn media line still waiting like a flock of hungry vultures. Oh, they want a story? I’ve got a story for them.

But the first face I focus on is that damned bitch reporter from earlier. Her face lights up, smelling the gossip darkening the waters like chum. No fucking way!