Chapter Twenty-Seven
U nyielding, furious, he strode out of the room.
I thought I was fucking a woman.
The cruel words ricocheted through my head, then stabbed into my heart. Crushing pain stole my breath, and I couldn’t remember one single reason why I thought throwing him under the bus was a good idea.
He was right.
I was selfish. And self-serving, and so, so immature.
I should’ve taken responsibility for myself during the interview. I should’ve realized Jonathan, of all people, was bluffing about actually showing the video. I should’ve never said what I said, but I wasn’t being honest with myself, and I hadn’t been in a long time. Honesty would’ve been admitting that I knew Colton was a junkie, that he’d always tried to get me to take drugs, and that partying with him at a club would only lead to trouble.
I should’ve fired my agent years ago when I first realized he was manipulative and I wasn’t happy with the path he was taking my career on or the way he spoke to me. I should’ve owned my choices a long time ago.
But I didn’t.
And now the only man who’d ever made me feel like a real woman, hell, the only man who’d ever made me feel, period, just walked out on me.
But he didn’t just walk out.
The utter disdain in his eyes took aim and destroyed me worse than any bullet from the gun he carried like an extension of himself .
Reeling, I spun in a circle and took in the four suitcases that comprised my life.
Three were full of clothes I’d never shopped for, and the fourth held all I had left of the life I used to have. A life I could never go back to, but desperately wanted.
Throwing that beat-up suitcase on the bed and opening it, I pulled out the old backpack I’d come to LA with as tears started dripping down my face. My hands riffling through my life’s possessions, I didn’t stop to think.
I didn’t think about the day my mother walked us out of the farmhouse like she was walking me to the bus stop, only to sneak us out back to the barn where we kept the old beater car she used for her once-weekly trip to town for groceries. I didn’t think about the cold expression on her face as she drove me to Ned’s Diner and dragged me inside, telling me not to say a word.
I didn’t think about the woman who I would later learn was a casting agent, who had legal paperwork my mother signed as she smiled and made empty promises of taking good care of me. I didn’t think about the horrible feeling when my mother told me I was lucky she was giving me my dream after what I’d done. I didn’t think about the first time the casting agent tried to send me home for Christmas so she didn’t have to deal with me, only to have my mother say don’t bother.
I didn’t think about any of the past ten years of acting lessons and school tutors and living with a woman who only saw me as paycheck and booked me with nonstop publicity and back-to-back films.
I didn’t think about any of it because I was already on a trajectory.
I haphazardly shoved the few pictures I had, an old baseball cap, and some jeans and T-shirts I’d bought myself into the backpack. I swept my arm across my purse’s contents and pushed everything that got caught in my one sweep back inside.
My phone lit up with a call, and I glanced at the screen as Peter’s name flashed .
Sending him to voice mail, I swiped through my contact list and dialed a number I never thought I would call.
Colton picked up on the fourth ring. “What the fuck do you want, Dreena MacKenzie ?” His canned laugh was more bitter than usual. “You already took my balls.”
“If you want me to drop charges against you, you’re going to do me a favor.”
I heard the distinct click of a lighter then a deep inhale and long exhale as he lit a cigarette. “Why should I believe you?”
“Did I ever once bitch about your nasty cigarette breath on set?”
He laughed in earnest. “No. But why the fuck would you? You were making three times what I was.”
Wow. That I didn’t know. “Are you going to help me or not?”
“Oh, so now it’s help you? After you castigated me on live television?” He snorted out a half laugh. “Sure. Lay it out, sweet cheeks. Tell me how I can help you .”
“I need a car.”
He took another drag of his cigarette. “So buy one.”
I didn’t want to buy one. I couldn’t wait that long. “I don’t have enough time.”
“Time for what?”
“None of your business. I need you to rent me a car and not tell anyone about it.”
The dry humor left his voice. “Okay, for real, what’s going on?”
“Nothing,” I lied, reminding myself that despite the few laughs we’d had on set on the rare occasion he was sober, he wasn’t my friend. Not even close. The asshole had drugged me. “I need a car, and I need it now.”
“Have Janette get you one, or your asshole agent. Fuck, rent one yourself. There’s a place with Lamborghinis around the corner from the hotel.”
“I can’t.” I channeled my best sullen teenager voice. “I’m not twenty-five.”
Sighing loudly, Colton held the phone away for a second. “Hey, you, wake up.” I heard the rustle of sheets, then a female voice mumbled something incoherent. “Yeah, whatever. I need a favor. Here, take….” Paper rustled. “Here’s two grand and change. Go rent me car… Yeah, right now. Go, giddy up. Get your ass out the door.” The female voice said something. “I don’t care, any kind of car. One that runs.”
“Colton,” I warned. “I don’t want to get in trouble over this.”
Colton came back on the line. “You couldn’t get in trouble if you tried. Even your stunt today has your fans swooning over your new bodyguard slash boyfriend and placing bets on how soon you’ll pop out little Hollywood babies.” He took another drag of his cigarette. “Which, if you’d told me you were into kink, I would’ve been more than willing to ride that freak train with you.”
“Fuck you.”
He laughed. Hard. “I knew it. It was a total act, wasn’t it? Did you even fuck meathead?”
“You’re an asshole.”
“An asshole who’s getting you a car,” he reminded me.
I ground my teeth. “Where are you?”
“The fuck motel, where else?”
“I’m on my way.” I hung up and shut off my phone.
Thirty seconds later, I was skirting the pool and running toward the beach with my backpack.