“She’s working on it.”
I glance at the clock on the wall above the stove. Where the hell is Willow? She said she was coming tonight. When I remove my cell phone from my pocket, I scroll through a bunch of text messages and miss calls. None of them are from Willow.
A brunette in a black bandage dress attaches herself to my arm. I shake her off and walk into the living room, plopping down on the sectional couch next to Carrie Le Blanc. She’s a singer-songwriter and one of my few friends in this business.
Most of my so-called friends disappeared after Sony released me from my contract. Another wave followed suit after TMZ exposed one of my highlight reels of drunkenness, causing me to lose all of my endorsements.
Carrie pats my forearm and smiles, her lips full and smothered in pink gloss. “I was wondering where you got off to.”
I raise my beer and tip the bottle to my lips.
“I have to leave soon,” she says.
I force a grin, watching the girls dance with each other in front of me. Like Aaron, Carrie is also here out of obligation. They’re good friends, and I love them for supporting me through the worst time of my life. But I hate the feeling stirring in the pit of my stomach. If I don’t find a job soon, will I have any friends? Will I have to move back home with my tail tucked between my legs?
I polish off my beer, and Aaron, the best wingman ever, hands me another bottle. I haven’t gone without a drink all night.
The room is spinning nicely, my mind drifting to a better place, one where I’m not losing everything. I need this distraction. Maybe if I concentrate hard enough, I’ll wake up from this horrible nightmare. Resting my head back against the cushion, I take a swig of my beer.
When I look up, a woman is blocking my view of the girls dancing on the table. Her dark hair falls down her shoulders, stopping just above her nice rack. A tight red dress hugs her curvy body, and I suddenly get the urge to touch her… until I get a better look at her face.
“Hey,” Willow says.
I stare at her, more like through her.
She waves her hand. “You okay, Nico? You don’t look so hot.”
I nod, one eye open.
“We started drinking after lunch,” Aaron says.
“You said it was okay to bring a friend,” Willow says, somewhat nervously. She tips her head toward the girl on her right. “You remember Ash?”
I look at the curvy girl who works for Vinnie. She has a big ass and nice tits I may have fantasized about once or twice. It’s hard not to notice Ash. Since she started working at Brenton- Lake, I have hit on her dozens, and she ignored my advances every time. She kept showing up at my house with boxes of scripts and the Date Crashers guy on her arm.
“Welcome, ladies.” I slur my words.
I tap the cushion next to me, and Willow makes herself comfortable, though she looks on edge.
“Do I know you?” Carrie peeks up at Ash. “You look familiar.”
“I’m Dylan’s girlfriend,” Ash says.
Carrie makes a face like she’s thinking over the name. “Oh, right? Date Crashers. I’m obsessed with his app. Your man is a genius.”
Ash taps me on the shoulder. “Make some room.”
I slide to my right, and Willow moves along with me, our thighs inches apart. Her mouth widens, and then she lowers her head. Tugging on the end of her dress that leaves little to my dirty mind, she glances at the crowded living room.
Ash sits next to Carrie, talking to her as if they are old friends. Because of Carrie’s videos and Instagram stories, Date Crashers blew up overnight. They talk about Dylan Banks and his anti-dating app, while I stare at Willow, watching her as she watches other people.
“What are you drinking?” I ask her.
She turns her head until her eyes meet mine. “Water.”
I snort with laughter. “I’m fresh out.”
I wave my hand to get Aaron’s attention, motioning him to slide a few beers down the table in front of us. Willow takes the beer from my hand, and our fingers touch.
“How much did you drink?” Willow asks after she takes a sip from her beer.
“A shit-ton,” I mutter.
She sucks in a deep breath and lets it out. “I need to talk to you.”
“So talk.”
“Can we go somewhere more private?”
I trace my finger down the length of her bare arm, leaving a trail of goosebumps. “You look hot in this dress,” I say as I play with the strap.
She scowls. “Nico, I’m your agent. And I need to talk to you. It’s important.”
“We can go upstairs.”
She presses her lips together, smearing her red lipstick. “Lead the way.”
Chapter Twelve
Willow
Nico Chase is driving me insane. Ash warned me about his drinking. He lied right to my face when he signed the contract. Maybe I should have listened when she issued the warning. We strolled into the kitchen to find girls snorting lines of coke off the counter. Beer bottles and plastic cups littered the space. In the living room, we had to watch a bunch of topless girls dance on the coffee table in front of Nico and his friends.