Hollywood Hearts: A Steamy Standalone Instalove Romance Page 2

  Just how lonely it really is being Jack Mercury, everyone thinking I’m happy enough to have the world at my feet.

  Thinking I could content myself with just anyone who comes along and wants to share my bed.

  No.

  I’m an old fashioned romantic at heart, something even my agent mom would never understand.

  I’ve searched for ‘the one,’ god knows I have. I’ve waited and waited. And maybe just like my career as an actor on the silver screen, I think my chances of ever finding my queen are all but finished.

  Maybe it’s the price of success. Maybe I made a deal with the devil and forgot about it somehow.

  Maybe I’m destined to be alone in this life.

  “You still there, Jack?” Denise asks. I grunt in the affirmative, taking a long breath as I prepare for her to spell out exactly what it is I’ll be doing for this so-called contest.

  “I’ve just sent you the email I used for the press release,” she starts, talking so hard and fast that all I can do is listen.

  Listen while I roll over and push myself up out of bed and power up my laptop.

  If I know Denise, she won’t rest or let me sleep until I know everything she has to tell me.

  “They have to call a toll number?” I ask, butting in just the once when I see it’s one of those four ninety-five a minute numbers.

  “How else do you think we’re gonna make anything out of it otherwise?” she asks, sounding insulted.

  “If not for your time, Jackie boy, what about mine? All this effort and not so much as a thank you, Denise, love you mom from my only son,” she chides me before rattling off a dozen more details while I tune out.

  Staring at my own reflection in the huge balcony window in front of me.

  I’ve still got it, I tell myself. Flexing a little as I stretch, adjusting myself under my boxers before tufting my hair out of habit. Glad I can’t see the streaks of silver in this light.

  Always feeling like I have to look my best even when my agent’s on the phone.

  A bad habit, but it’s made us both incredibly well off and showbiz is the only thing my mom and I have in common, truth be told.

  “I guess there’s no way I can back out of it now?” I tell us both, not wanting to see any more bad press with my face on it.

  “Nope,” Denise says swiftly. “It’s gotta bring in some better offers, Jack. I’m not sure how many more movies you have in you,” she says point-blank.

  I shake my head to myself. “And what about you, Ma? How much more of this lifestyle can you handle?” I challenge her, knowing it’s the one thing that keeps her going.

  “Well, you never gave me any grandbabies to fuss over. Never settled down yourself, so I guess I’m just trying to make sure we both have enough to retire on comfortably when the day comes,” she sighs.

  I know it’s not about money when she talks like that. We’ve both got plenty of money. I could have quit or failed as an actor a decade ago and still come out in front.

  It’s the one thing mom’s really always wanted for me though, to see me with a family of my own. A real family. Not the showbiz moneymaking shaker I have to rattle three times a year to keep overpriced real estate over both our heads.

  It’s what I’ve secretly always wanted too. Just never found ‘the one.’

  Never found my leading lady.

  “Jack?”

  “Uh, yeah. You do realize what time it is?” I ask her again when she catches me zoning out a second time.

  Maybe I’m dreaming.

  I did use to have a recurring nightmare that my agent was actually my mom, but it turned out to be true.

  “Just one more thing, wonder boy. You need to be the one to make the announcement to the winner, turning up in person is even better. I’ve arranged to have a camera crew on standby, borrowed a few second unit crew members from the studio. Don’t tell anyone.”

  I groan loudly.

  Hospital visits, cutting ribbons for charity, community service announcements. They’re all fine given plenty of notice and if they’re for a good cause.

  But this is just… This is just…

  “Shameless self-promotion, Jack. I know,” Denise says, reading my mind.

  “If you don’t get that tight ass of yours out there and start reminding people how freakin’ great Jack Mercury is, nobody’s gonna come knocking,” she tells me again, parroting the same thing I remember her lecturing me about when I was barely old enough to sign a contract let alone act.

  Walking the beat, handing out my nine-by-five glossies to studios and agents way before she took the reins and started running things for me. For both of us.

  “Okay, okay,” I concede. Realizing if I don’t agree I’m only losing sleep, and how hard can it be to spend the day with someone who might actually appreciate it for a change?

  Sign some stuff, smile for some selfies. It’s stuff I have to do for promotional tours anyway, what’s one more day of it?

  “And you’ll be keeping your old mom happy,” Denise reminds me. “Who knows? She might even be the woman you’ve been waiting for your whole life,” she adds.

  “What makes you think it has to be a woman?” I ask, pretending to sound offended, but hoping maybe she’s right.

  A fan who turns out to be the one? Now that would be a Hollywood ending. Could even produce my own movie about that one, if only it were remotely possible.

  Most fans I meet are nice enough people. But nothing like a leading lady, Mrs. Jack Mercury material, unfortunately.

  And never good enough to pass the mom-slash manager test either.

  “Go back to sleep Jack. I’ll call you again when the name’s been drawn and the cars on the way to pick you up. Make sure you shave and brush your teeth. Wear something revealing but tasteful-”

  “G’night, Ma,” I tell her, holding out the phone and pressing end call.

  Slumping back into bed, hoping it has been a weird dream, but wondering too as I look out at the stars in the darkness through the window, if there really is someone out there just for me.

  If Jack Mercury’s time to really live is about to happen.

  Wishing on a star?

  I smile to myself.

  Couldn’t hurt.

  If you’re out there, whoever you are and if you’re the one for me. I’ll see you in a few hours.

  Whoever you are.

  Chapter Three

  Olivia

  Okay, so I manage to talk my way out of snooping into my boss’s emails.

  But only just.

  “I only noticed the headline as I was putting your latest article on your desk,” I lie. “I know how you’ve got it in for Jack Mercury, and was just printing this out to save you some time.”

  “I could look into it some more if you-” I try to say but she cuts me off.

  “Don’t try kissing my ass, Fanning. It’s not a good look on you and trust me, you’re the last thing I want anywhere near my ass,” she groans, rolling her eyes and shoving my printed copies hard into my chest.

  “I’m not stupid either, ya know,” she continues, narrowing her eyes and looking me up and down again.

  “I leave my computer open knowing full well the whole world can see it. I’ve got nothing to hide. But Kudos to you for coming up with your, Err… my next article material.” She smiles suddenly, cocking her brow.

  “What do you mean?” I ask, feeling hurt she’s crushed my photos of Jack, not to mention my chest.

  “Have you forgotten?” she scoffs.

  “I’m heading off tomorrow to cover the San-Fran film festival. You did book my flights I hope?” she says sharply, glaring at me until I remember.

  “Yes, yes of course I did.”

  I’d totally forgotten, but this Barbie witch boss from hell really is going away for three whole days. I arranged it all for her weeks ago, I’m surprised it slipped my mind but this morning has been rather distracting, to say the least.

  “Write up a storyline followin
g this contest,” she says dryly, narrowing her eyes again. Deep in thought this time. “It’ll give me plenty of breathing space before you have to write up the film festival.”

  “Push the day with Jack contest details on social media, the website too, like the PR wants. We don’t want to be seen to be always trying to knife the great Jack Mercury in the back, he has his fans too apparently and some of them can actually read. This could be Jack’s saving grace, a feel-good story for a change,” she informs me.

  But this doesn’t sound right. This isn’t the Naomi who makes me dig up or plain old make stuff up about celebrities before running it past the editors, who run it by the lawyers who calculate the risk of settlement versus the sales in copy and the potential publicity for the paper.

  “You want me to follow through on this?” I hear myself asking, trying hard not to smile as she raises her voice impatiently.

  “What did I just say? Yes! I want you to follow through on this. CC me everything before anyone else and for fuck’s sake, Fanning don’t you dare screw anything up while I’m gone,” she adds threateningly.

  “No, Naomi. I won’t.” I promise, crossing my fingers behind my back and somehow managing to hide my glee until her skinny rake back is turned and I’m alone with Jack again.

  With a color copy of his photographs anyway.

  Naomi leaves for lunch early, leaving me to my own devices and only calling in the late afternoon to tell me she’s got a headache so won’t be back in today after all.

  How convenient, early minute and a three day paid holiday.

  That’s the kind of journalism I thought I’d signed up for, but it turns out I’ve got a long way to go in this business before I can get paid holidays or even an early minute.

  I tell her everything she wants to hear and forward her the ticket information after confirming her flights and accommodation.

  I daren’t leave before time just in case she’s lurking someplace else, trying to catch me out again but something tells me she’s not the only one getting a free holiday.

  The thought of three days without her in my life is enough to make me relax for the first time in a long time.

  Nobody else in the office even registers my existence, and I have the run of Naomi’s little corner while she’s away.

  Publishing the contest details to her social media accounts is simple enough, like everything else with her name on it it’s me who actually does the work.

  Once that’s done I figure I’ve got nothing left to lose, and even though it’s against office policy, I use the work phone to dial in my own entry into the contest.

  Why the hell not? I’m not gonna miss the chance to meet Jack Mercury in the flesh.

  Just one entry won’t hurt.

  The call cost is $4.95 though.

  Hmmm. Hope nobody really checks the office phone accounts.

  One teensy little contest entry, then I’m done.

  Promise.

  143 office phone contest call entries later…

  I’ll pay them back, every cent.

  Ah Jesus, what have I done? What am I gonna do?

  This is the end of me.

  If they find out.

  But who else could it have been? Naomi’s away and I’m the only one here the whole time.

  Crap!

  I should be typing my resignation. Maybe even trying to leave town before someone finds out what I’ve done.

  But the office is strangely quiet when I leave, and as per usual nobody even looks up when I walk by.

  But there’s something else.

  A new kind of feeling inside me as I make my way home, back to my tiny one room apartment.

  I feel like 143 is the new magic number, that somehow, and I really don’t know exactly how but everything’s gonna be alright.

  It’s leftover takeout and a quart of peppermint chocolate chip ice cream for dinner. Curled up in front of my big screen TV with my favorite Jack Mercury movie playing, I eventually kiss his printed photos goodnight before falling into the first real deep and carefree sleep I’ve had in ages.

  Not even worried about being late for work tomorrow or any other day after that, I dream that Jack Mercury himself is here, and everything that usually bugs like Naomi, my crappy job, and even crapper apartment just seem to melt away once I look into his penetrating dark eyes.

  The sleep was good, the dreams even better. But the wake up taste mixed with the crick in my neck from sleeping with my neck hanging over my sofa bed? Not so good.

  My phone is chiming and I figure it’s the alarm before I even manage to open my eyes until I remember I didn’t even set the alarm.

  I have a moment of near panic until I remind myself that there’s no rush. Not for the next few days at least. I can be a little late into the office, who’s gonna notice?

  Without opening my eyes I shift my neck and try to go back to sleep, willing myself back into another Jack Mercury dream but the damned phone has other plans.

  Shaking myself awake enough to answer, I fumble for it and almost drop it when I pick it up.

  It’s my boss, Naomi.

  Why aren’t I in the office yet?

  “Umm. I’m doing some research. Fieldwork.”

  How does she know I’m not in the office yet? I thought she was way dumber than this.

  “Well finish your research pronto, Fanning. There’s some media crew down at the office, trying to sneak past security and making noise about that Jack Mercury contest. We can’t afford any more bad publicity and the editor’s told me to fix it which means you have to fix it. Now. Understand?” she says savagely before hanging up.

  I feel confused, scared, and a little relieved.

  I’ve never been late for work at the office and it’s dawning on me that maybe Barbie boss Naomi can’t fire me after all because then she’d have no one to do anything for her.

  Having never really thought about things in that light, I feel partly relief.

  What terrifies me is having to go down to the office and try and fix whatever she was just talking about.

  Media crew? Ugh.

  The thought of a camera in my face is mortifying, but it’s probably just some rival entertainment reporter or worse, a social media ‘journalist’ trying to boost their video views by giving people who actually work for a living a hard time.

  By the time I get to the office and show my ID to security to be let through into the building there’s more than just one media crew.

  The whole front of the building is teeming with news crews from every network and police have been called in to control a growing crowd.

  I feel sick and hope this has nothing to do with the little problem I’ve been sent down to fix.

  The security guard looks relieved once he sees my ID.

  “We’ve been waiting for you to turn up,” he says, puffing air out of his cheeks and tipping his hat back.

  I feel double sick.

  “They’re upstairs,” he adds with a knowing look, creasing the corners of his mouth and jerking his thumb up in the air.

  As if I should know what the hell that means.

  By the time I’m in an elevator my knees are knocking and I can only tell myself I’ve been found out.

  They know. Of course, they know.

  You can’t make over seven hundred dollars in phone calls on the office line and not expect to found out, Olivia.

  Idiot!

  Ah well, I never liked this job anyway. Too bad I can’t make rent this month either.

  Guess I’ll just die of mortification.

  The elevator pings and the doors slide open once I reach my floor.

  The sound of office chatter is suddenly silenced and I blink a little, so many lights shining right in my face.

  An unfamiliar voice breaks through the suddenly quiet room and once my eyes adjust to the light I can make out the unmistakable figure of the last person I’d ever expect to see stepping through the small crowd.

  It can’t be. I couldn
’t have.

  A soft moan escapes me before I watch the scene tilt sideways before I hit the floor.

  It’s him.

  It’s Jack Mercury.

  Chapter Four

  Jack

  I’ve worked with the biggest names and the so-called prettiest faces in the business for twenty years.

  Had fans of every description try all kinds of things just to get close, sometimes too close for comfort.

  But I’ve never felt the way I do when I set eyes on her, Olivia Fanning. The contest winner and definitely not the first girl to faint at the sight of Jack Mercury in person.

  I’ve spent the past hour or so meeting and greeting the whole office waiting for the grand prize winner to actually get here, signing autographs, my cheeks aching already from all the selfies.

  But it’s not me I’m thinking about when I shove past the security ignoring everything else to try and catch her before she hits the floor.

  It’s her.

  To think I was almost gonna bail from this whole contest idea.

  I would have missed her, after all these years of waiting she could have passed me by.

  I’d never forgive myself now if I let her out of my sight, even for just a minute.

  In a second I know I can’t let that happen, not now or ever and I swoop on her, growling at anyone who tries to help her before I get my hands on her.

  She hasn’t hurt herself, just fainted for a second. Long enough to fall before I could catch her but I’m here now.

  And nothing’s gonna let her fall without me to catch her ever again. I just know it as soon as I touch her.

  Her long blond hair tumbles down over her face and thick chest as I scoop her up.

  She’s light as a lamb even though I can feel a similar thickness in her legs to match her chest.

  She’s all girl and not the kind they have in the movies anymore.

  But I’m not thinking about movies, contests, or what she looks like. I’m not thinking about any of that.

  I just want to hold her, feel her soft warmth against my body as long as I can before I get her someplace safe.

  Away from all these people and flashing lights.