Chapter 11
ARDEN
The drive to L.A. is one I’ve made many times. Nothing to see here. Just a seemingly endless expanse of desert on both sides of the car.
If he were considering killing me, this would be the perfect time to do it. Maybe that’s why I’m not quite able to relax. I’ve been on edge since the moment I got into this car.
I’ve also been… curious. My imagination has already conjured up tons of different scenarios about the glamorous streets of Hollywood and the world I’m about to step into.
Red carpets, high-end shopping, and glitter trailing everywhere we walk. The type of glamour you only ever see in magazines or late-night reruns. In my mind, Hollywood is glossy and intoxicating. I don’t know if reality can live up to the hype, but I’m finally about to find out.
As we drive and I stare out at the dark desert, my mind continues to wander. What is Locke’s house like? Or maybe he lives in a hotel suite like the one he had here.
Either way, I’m picturing bare white walls, cold tile floors, and absolutely no warmth. That seems fitting.
That’s when I realize he hasn’t actually told me where we’re going or where I’ll be staying.
“Hey, where are we going exactly? And what are our living arrangements going to be while we’re working together?
” The question makes my stomach flip. Not because of the job, or the possible chaos waiting for us in L.A.
but because I’ll be trapped in the same space as him for weeks, maybe even months.
I’m not convinced I can keep my hands to myself for that long.
“We might travel a bit, but for the week, you’ll stay at my place.” He notices my wary glance and grins. “What? Afraid to share a bed with me… again?”
He’s right. God, he’s right. I can’t stand his arrogant, insufferable ass…
but the memory of his body pressing me into the mattress, the tattoos inked across those thick muscles, the way his hand sealed around my throat, how easily he wrung pleasure out of me like it was nothing.
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t want more.
I realize I haven’t answered when he adds, softer this time, “Don’t worry. There’s a guest bedroom and a private bathroom. I may be a lot of things, but a scumbag isn’t one of them.”
“Thank you” is all I can manage to say. Those memories are still swirling around in my head, leaving heat crawling up my neck. I need a distraction. Any distraction.
“So, tell me more about Jaxon Wilde,” I say, trying to think of anything to get my mind off that night.
Apparently, that was not my smartest move. Locke looks like he’d rather run the car off the road than talk about his rock star client.
He begrudgingly states the obvious. “He’s a 20-something train wreck that could probably use a shower and should definitely stop playing into the rock star stereotype.
You know, all this throwing TVs out of hotel windows, smashing guitars, and getting so drunk he can barely remember the words to his own songs? It’s not cute up close.”
“But he is very cute.”
Locke shakes his head, chuckling to himself. “Every girl your age seems to agree.”
“Can you blame us?” I sigh, trying not to swoon at the thought. “All that angst and self-loathing? The accent? It works.”
I pause for a moment, looking out at the vast expanse of desert illuminated only by the car’s headlights.
“Not to mention his personality. His whole ‘fans are family’ thing. Most celebrities are so fake, you know? But not him. Every time he speaks, you can just tell he’s being genuine.
And the lyrics? God, it’s like he’s bleeding on stage for everyone to see.
Yet somehow it makes you feel better about your own mess.
He’s reckless, sure, but it’s kind of… beautiful?
Like he’s not afraid to set himself on fire just so the rest of us don’t feel so alone. ”
Locke scoffs softly, eyes narrowing at the stretch of road ahead. “Wow,” he says. “Maybe you should be his publicist.”
Then he goes quiet. The silence drags on for miles, and I start to wonder if I struck a nerve.
His jaw flexes right before he speaks up again.
“He’s not a hero, Arden. He’s drowning. Drowning himself in all the temptations of celebrity.
Women, booze, drugs, power. All of it will eat a person alive if they can’t control themselves.
The only reason he hasn’t disappeared completely is that people like you keep believing in him. ”
I wasn’t expecting that response. I blink a few times, staring at Locke as he drives.
Yes, Jaxon sings about struggles, heartbreak, and anger, but he’s smiling and laughing in every interview.
Cracking jokes on social media. Nothing in how he presents himself would ever hint at that level of self-destruction.
“Anyway… tell me about you. About Lexi. How’d you two end up living together? What does she do for work?”
His questioning snaps me out of that train of thought. “Careful. If you ask too many questions, I might think you actually care.” Locke tries to hide the way the corner of his lip turns up but fails miserably. “We’re stuck in this car for a few hours. Might as well get to know each other.”
I consider that statement for a moment, then shut it down. “Nope. I don’t talk about my past. Especially not with you. As for Lexi, she works in HR. Or porn. Can’t remember which.” I give him a shrug, redirecting my stare out the passenger window.
A few seconds of silence pass. I sneak a glance at Locke, and his jaw looks tight. He doesn’t look angry… maybe frustrated? Annoyed? Which only makes me wonder what he really expected from me in the first place.
“Cute.” The word comes out dry. He’s not impressed. Not fooled by me. His eyes stay on the road, but I’m scared to look at him too closely for fear that he’ll see right through me if he glances over.
“Most people at least pretend they want to be understood,” he finally says flatly.
“I thought maybe your speech about Jaxon was the start of us being real with each other, but if you’d rather lie than trust me with something simple, that’s your choice.
Just don’t be surprised when I stop asking altogether. ”