Chapter 4
Another fucking day of bringing work home with me.
After driving to the reading, we swung by the office, and I rushed inside with Empire sullen in the front seat of the sedan, waiting for me to hurry my ass up, as she put it. She is somehow over me, even though she’s the one causing the upheaval.
We managed to get to the reading on time, although I’d had to drag her through the door with a lighter grip than usual, lest someone saw the manhandling and decided to call the rags. Nothing like a piece of juicy gossip to keep them all in business. I’d have hell to pay for sending her in there with the wolves with bruises dotting her arms. Sometimes, though, I wanted to squeeze her and ask her what’s going on in the vacuous confines of her head.
The pocket doors cutting off the old library close softly behind me, not a hint of squeaking in the hinges, and although a line of light still filters in underneath the wood, it’s all the privacy I’ll get.
Her head isn’t vacuous, I’m forced to admit inside my own mind.
She just doesn’t seem to give a flying fuck about herself or her career, the latter of which is the most important thing in the world to me. She got the part. Nothing is ever good enough for her, and I have a sneaking suspicion she won’t be happy until she’s completely separated herself from reality.
She got the goddamn part, the role of a lifetime, and now, I need to convince her to take it.
If not, then my money is going to go dry, and I’m not going back to the bottom. Never again.
Hollywood isn’t for the faint of heart, and I’m not just talking about the actors and actresses who work their entire careers for a star on the Walk of Fame. I’m talking anybody who chooses to live in this hellhole, those with a pervasive masochistic streak. They like the pain. They like the struggle and the chaos and the heat. It’s life, and it’s hard.
I’m one of those fucks who prefers the inferno to a regular life. There is something enigmatic and intoxicating about carving out a place for yourself here, which is why I loved my apartment and office closer to the city lights. If I have a bad day or things aren’t going the way I want them to go, I walk to the windows overlooking the busy street and watch.
Today, I’ve swapped my air-conditioned office downtown for Mr. Stone’s old library.
It’s too quiet at the mansion.
I drop down in Bennet’s chair and stare at the leather wingback where I used to sit across from him, drinking tequila and shooting the shit. Those days are long gone. The new normal is going to have to be a repeat of the hellish experience from today—forcing Empire into the shower, picking out her clothes, cracking the whip to get her dressed.
And that’s before we left the house!
Forcing her to go through with the reading had been a nightmare of wondering whether she’d bolt the second my back was turned. Luckily for me, the moment she got called in to read, she behaved. Hopefully, she tried her best, because the part is a big deal for her.
A headache brews exactly where I don’t need it to, and I reach behind me, pushing my knuckles into the back of my neck. The kinks stay behind, stubborn as shit.
The producer is a friend of mine, although I use the term loosely. We used to know each other in the early days, and while I cast my lot in with the Stones, Parker Heath chose to stay with the old gang and use their strength to get him where he needed to go.
It’s a risk working with him in any capacity, even one as far moved as manager to the lead in his production, but it’s a risk I’ve got to take, because the payoff will be huge.
If Empire pulls this off.
There’s a lot hanging on her reading today.
Better to be home, though, instead of a phone call away if there’s trouble. Given the traffic and the drive up to the manor, it’s too far with Empire in the mood she’s in. Frustrated, sullen, stomping around the house…
My stomach flips at the thought of her, and I growl, wrenching open the lid of the laptop, staring at the screen as the laptop boots to life. The girl spends more and more time in her room being obstinate, reclusive. She also hasn’t updated her social media in weeks, although she assured me in the car that she’s working on it.
Any kind of extended break can be a catastrophic hit for her upward momentum, even though it’s hard to blame her after the media ruckus.
The paparazzi got through the lines. I’m not sure how that one in particular ended up with photos of the plane crash. I want to tear his neck out and shove it up his asshole for what he did. How the fuck can you call yourself a man if you shove those kinds of photos in front of a grieving young woman?
It takes the worst kind of person, because even me at my darkest wouldn’t dream of doing anything close, and I’ve done terrible things.
The laptop screen has already gone dark in front of me.
Fuck this.
Work is impossible when I worry this way about her, and despite my best efforts, I worry.
Empire has always been bubbly and carefree, wanting for nothing. Now, she’s withdrawn, and I wonder if the girl I used to know will ever return. Surely, it’s just a matter of time. She’s practically an adult.
Eighteen is a mark of growth, even if she can’t legally drink yet. She should be able to handle herself, her emotions. I curl my hand into a fist. I even offered to pay for a goddamn therapist so she’d have someone to talk to, someone who isn’t me. What more can I do at this point?
Get her medicated?
I suck on my teeth. I wouldn’t feel right shoving pills down her throat. So, if she wants to stay in her room for weeks on end—
I groan, leaning back in the chair and finally shutting the laptop lid again.
The excuses are hollow.
I am worried about the brat.
Her parents’ death hit her harder than I”d have thought for a vapid little princess. Not that there isn’t substance at the core of her, but in this field, you want to protect whatever is down there to the best of your abilities, and Empire protects it like a dragon with a hoard of treasure, even from me. I’ve worked for her mother for too many years to count. Correction—I push up from the desk with an agitated grunt—I worked for her.
Past tense.
As hard as it is to remember, that entire portion of my life is past tense, and there isn’t a damn thing I can do to bring any of it back.
Light filters in through sky high windows lining the hallway. The office is in the opposite wing of the house, far enough away from the family bedrooms for Bennet to have done his work without disturbance. The villa had two floors, the master suite above the office in its own wing, Empire on the bottom floor by herself.
Privacy for the growing girl and, more importantly, privacy for her parents.
The living room and kitchen were open in the center of the house, connected to the large dining room where Olivia used to hold parties. I claimed the bedroom across from Empire when I moved in, thinking she’d find comfort in having someone close, especially when she woke up screaming night after night. I hear everything.
I’m just checking on her. That’s all I’m doing, making sure she isn’t dead in her room, where she holed up immediately once we got home…
A morbid thought to consider, but always a possibility in this business. I’ve seen one too many managers lose clients to accidental drug overdoses and those kinds of things, even though Empire has managed to stay on the outskirts of it, whether it’s been on purpose or because Hollywood’s sweetheart has the worst luck I’ve ever seen.
I hustle down the hall with a knot forming in my chest and pause at the door with my fist lifted, ready to knock. Laughter sounds from inside the room before Empire says something too low for me to make out, and another woman answers. Whatever the response, Empire chuckles, the other female tone, rich and smoky, makes a comment about…her hair.
Leaning in closer, I press my ear against the door to listen in on the conversation. The other person sounds tinny and a little distant.
She’s got to be on the phone talking to her bestie. There’s only one person Empire calls these days. The knot in my chest loosens inch by inch.
“Please tell me you didn’t let your hair air dry today,” River is saying.
River Barlett, Instagram celebrity and closet book nerd. But in this business, you don’t let the nerd out, because brains don’t pay the bills. It’s a lesson Empire hasn’t learned yet.
“You know what happens to those weird curls around your face,” she continues. “It’s not exactly the best impression you could have made, especially since you actually did it! You went to an audition!”
River claps.
“I did let it dry,” Empire answers with a tight laugh. “I didn’t really have a lot of time to get ready! Bad enough I had to do my makeup in the car. Marcus practically threw my makeup kit at me and told me to paint it on.”
“Have you been sleeping okay?” River asks.
“What do you think?”
“I’m going to take a wild guess and say no, you’re still having trouble. Why don’t you let me hook you up with this guy I know who does medicinal supplements? He’s got to have something for sleep.”
Empire sighs loudly enough for me to hear. “No, thanks. I’ll be okay. I did pretty well today even though I didn”t sleep. Everyone seemed to like me.”
It’s wrong to stay and eavesdrop, but my feet sink into the cold marble beneath my shoes and refuse to move. There’s something about the way she’s speaking…there’s resignation, yes, but more life than I’ve heard in a long time.
I wanted her to be excited about the part, about the audition process in general, or anything that will get her out of this gilded prison and into the real world. Not that I’m calling anything about Hollywood real, but it’s better than isolating herself in the villa, especially since I’d gotten word about an hour ago that the producers want her for the part. It’s an edgy role, something designed to break her mold of Hollywood’s sweetheart but also open doors for future casting.
“Oh yeah? Tell me more!”
“I think I made a good impression. The script was easy to read, and there was something about the part I connected to on a deep level,” Empire continues. “They had me do a scene where the main character is relating to her peers and kind of commanding a crowd.”
She almost sounds excited.
“And you didn’t want to go,” River purrs. “Look at what happens when you step outside of your comfort zone. Wonderful things, Em!”
“I know, I know.”
“It really feels like your luck is changing for the better. What do you think?”
Empire is silent for a second before, “Yeah, I don’t know. I’m not sure.”
“You might not be sure, but I am. You know I love you, and things have been rough, but you have to get out there. It’s not healthy to…you know, stay in. Look at how things changed when you went out today?”
“You’re right,” Empire admits begrudgingly. “You’re always right.”
“Take it from me. I know how it feels to have to hide parts of yourself away because you don’t think people will accept them. It’s the price we pay for what we do, but we’re the same. We’re influencers. People will need to see you pulling yourself out of the darkness and into the light. This role will help you reach more people,” River continues.
I should leave them alone. I should do a thousand things that aren’t standing right outside of the fucking door, listening for some small hint that Empire is okay, that she’s going to be fine through all of this.
“And you had to have hot Daddy Marcus drag you out of the house. Talk about sexy! Which I’d love to hear more about, thank you very much. Did he throw you around? Did you get to feel his muscles up close and personal?”
My ears prick up. What did she call me?
Facetime is a beautiful thing because I get to hear both sides of the conversation. It’s also a burden, because I notice plainly, even though the door, the lust in River’s voice when she talks about me.
But seriously, what the fuck? Is that the name they use when I’m not around? Hot Daddy Marcus?
My eyebrow twitches, and I tamp down the amusement bubbling up inside me. Okay, a guy could get used to that. I’ll consider it one of the perks of getting older.
“Stop it,” Empire warns without heat. “You know I hate it when you call him Hot Daddy Marcus.”
“Aw, why? You know he’s smoking!”
“He’s hot, for sure. I just don’t want to think about him in those terms.”
“Come on. You and I both appreciate a good looking man when we see one. You just happen to have the hottest of them all living under your roof! And the way you said he pushed you in the shower? Forced you to strip down in front of him—” River breaks off on a moan. “Talk about sexy AF. I’m surprised you didn’t jump his bones right there. I mean, think about his muscles under the water and how hot he would have looked.”
“It’s not like that.” I practically see Empire grit her teeth. Her voice drops to a mumble, and I press closer to the door. “He’s like an uncle to me. I could never jump his bones, no matter how nice his muscles look.”
Surprise slices through me. Well, fuck me sideways. She sees me like an uncle? Guilt intermingles with the surprise, and I jolt back from the door. It would make me the perviest uncle out there.
The comment shouldn”t hurt the way it does, shouldn’t cause a physical ache in my chest, harsh enough that I have to force my hand to stay at my side rather than rub the area.
I shake my head and push into the room without knocking, having the pleasure of both girls jumping at the unannounced visit—one from the screen and the other on the bed with eyes too wide and dark for her suddenly pale face.
“Hang up,” I demand without looking at River. “Now. We need to talk.”