Notorious (Hollywood Bad Boys)

  Notorious

  by

  Caitlin Daire

  © 2017 by Caitlin Daire

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  COPYRIGHT

  Please respect the work of this author. No part of this book may be reproduced or copied without permission. This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only.

  This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Any similarities to events or situations is also coincidental.

  © 2017 Caitlin Daire

  All Rights Reserved

  He says he's not guilty, but he might be the death of me anyway...

  I shouldn’t want Jack Steele. At all. Sure, he’s a gorgeous, charismatic Hollywood actor, but he’s also far too cocky and arrogant for my tastes. On top of that, he’s an ex-con with a dangerous past. I don’t know exactly why he was in prison before he became an actor, because most of the records are sealed by the state, but given what I’ve seen of him so far, I’m not sure I want to know.

  But now I’m stuck working with him. I’m a casting director for a film studio, and as much as I can’t stand Jack, I have to admit that he’s perfect for the male lead in my latest project. I also have to admit he’s slowly growing on me…but I can’t get involved with him for my own sake. All I have to do is keep my distance for a while. Shouldn’t be too hard, right?

  Wrong.

  Against all better judgment, I’m falling for him….just as he is accused of yet another crime. Will our passion keep us together, or will his murky past tear us apart?

  Chapter 1

  ALISON

  A stack of slick headshots splayed out across the table, each impossibly more delicious than the last: piercing eyes, stubbled chins, chiseled abs, anything a girl could ever want. Each as untouchable, and likely vapid, as the last. Also all equally unacceptable. Too loud, too brash, too…weak. No matter how I pushed and prodded and begged and pleaded and changed scenes and reading partners, nobody worked.

  “Have we actually hit rock bottom in Hollywood?” Denver tossed his glasses on the reading table and let out a heavy sigh. “All these pretty boys and you’re telling me not one fits the bill?”

  I blew on my oppressively hot coffee instead of sighing at my director. Given this was my first big job as casting director, I didn’t want to start hacking bridges before we started rolling. “I wouldn’t say that. We just haven’t found the right Derek Stevens yet. He’s out there.”

  “What about Josh Bowen?” This came from Gerald, one of the producers. “He’s attractive. He’s up and coming.”

  I carefully arranged my face. It was widely known that Eddie Bowen, a man with too much money and almost as much influence as a big-shot movie producer, invested a hell of a lot of money into Denver’s film with a caveat his son, Josh, would land a role. Denver told me from day one to never feel intimidated by anyone, to cast the best choice and not the one with the most green floating around their aura, but that didn’t stop everyone else on the crew from bringing it up every thirty seconds.

  “He read well for Doug Bronson.”

  “You mean the guy who occasionally pops up with some lame-ass quip and doesn’t get the girl?” Gerald tossed a handful of corn nuts in his mouth and chewed loudly. He was, without a doubt, my least favorite person on set, and he had full control of Denver’s ear. With or without the corn nuts. “That’s a bit low tier for a producer’s son.”

  “We’re in this to the make the best movie possible, right?” I was proud at how level my voice was despite my stomach turning into a million knots. “Josh Bowen might one day be an A-lister, but he’s not today. He doesn’t fit the role.”

  Denver pointed at me with his pen, a sure sign he had my back. I guess he wasn’t up for playing Gerald’s games just yet. “If the casting director says he’s not a fit, he’s not a fit.”

  “We’re scheduled to start filming tomorrow, or has everyone lost their goddamn minds?” Another handful of corn nuts cleared his salt-and-pepper ‘stache. His dentist must hate him. “We need him cast now.”

  “It took the casting department for Harry Potter—”

  “This is not a goddamn magical boarding school movie set in the middle of fucking nowhere, Alison. This is not a movie based on books that sold more money than everyone in this room will ever make in their entire lives. You’re out of time.” He cut his eyes to Denver. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

  Denver turned to me. “Do you at least have someone else in mind?”

  This was my time to make an impact. My time to show I knew that the hell I was doing. It was terrifying. I set down my coffee and folded my hands on the table, aiming for a look that read experience and seriousness and all things Girl Boss. “Jack Steele.”

  The room went silent, save for those goddamn corn nuts.

  “As in—”

  “Yes.”

  “I wasn’t aware he auditioned.” Denver rifled through his dog-eared notebook. “When did he come in?”

  “He didn’t.” Dear heart, please don’t explode right now. “But I’d like to bring him in.”

  “Jack Steele,” Gerald repeated slowly. “You’ve got to be out of your goddamn mind. He’s a menace to every set he stumbles through.”

  “He’s a top-grossing actor.” If I had glasses on right now, I’d take them off to really sell the point. Instead, I leaned back in my chair. “His whole bad boy past only adds additional color to Derek’s character.”

  “It’s called acting because they make it up.” More corn nuts. This man must’ve been stressed as hell and I bet a lot of it had to do with his business partner whose last name rhymed with Cohen. “We don’t need an actual ex-con to play an ex-con. This is Hollywood. Jesus Christ, did you forget what we do?”

  “He’ll be an immediate sell and built-in marketing.” I dug into my portfolio and slid a headshot into the middle of the table. “He’s perfect.”

  Denver chewed on his pen. “He was damn good in—”

  “Everything,” I finished for him. “You know I’m right.”

  “Yes, but…” Denver shook his head. “This is risky. He is notorious on sets and hiring an ex-criminal could be terrible press.”

  “If Chris Brown can still tour, Jack Steele can still act. If you’ve been paying attention, and I have, you’d know he dominates everything he gets involved with.”

  Gerald opened his mouth to protest, but Denver pointed to me. “Can you get him in here?”

  “I’ll have him in tomorrow.”

  “Then we’ll see what happens tomorrow.”

  “The others aren’t going to like this,” Gerald said. “This is risking our money here.”

  “Every movie is a risk, Gerald.” Denver collected his things and pointed at me for a third time, this one to say goodbye. “Pretending it’s not goes to show you have no business in show business. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to get back out to the set.”

  We all said our goodbyes and gathered our belongings. I couldn’t believe I stood my ground like that against the director and producer, neither of whom were the small potatoes I used to work with. Denver’s last three movies all hit the top three on opening weekend, and not a single movie Gerald touched was ever omitted during award season.

  They were film royalty. Royalty I’d clawed and flirted and slashed my way to. Ever since my first director took a chance on me, I’d bent over backwards to secure the best actors for the role, no matter what it was, no matter who it was. My admittedly small reputation centered on t
hat very fact and was likely a huge reason why Denver trusted me now.

  It didn’t seem to stop Corn Nut Breath, though.

  “You really think you can not only secure a loose cannon like Steele but keep him out of trouble for the entire duration of filming?” Gerald’s disbelief oozed out of him like a thick stink.

  I held my breath but smiled brightly. “It won’t be a problem. I’ll get Steele and he won’t cause the studio any grief. I’d stake my reputation on it.”

  “Not worth much.” Gerald tossed his final hand of nuts into his mouth and shot the crumpled wrapper into a nearby trash can. It sailed in, sank smoothly, nothing but net. “You better hope tomorrow goes as well as my free throws.”

  “Have a good evening, Gerald.”

  He disappeared somewhere further into the labyrinthine hallways of the studio, someplace where I was sure all the big shots above my paygrade gathered together to roll in their money and laugh at us peons.

  Except I wasn’t a peon anymore, was I? I was the head casting director for a film with a budget three times larger than the last one I worked on. I was working under Denver Latmini, who was widely slated to be the next Ron Howard.

  I considered following the salty dust into whatever corridor my lofty title would afford me, but instead I about-faced and slipped between the mammoth set pieces and the jungle of light towers. Tomorrow, filming would kick off with the existing cast members while we hunted down the perfect Derek Stevens. A quick look at the calendar my assistant (I had an assistant!) handed off as I hooked through the parking lot told me there was another full day of readings. The most important one was inked in near the middle.

  My tiny Fiesta begrudgingly kicked on and navigated through the thick LA traffic practically on autopilot while I worked Siri like a miniature Devan, who was my adorable real-life assistant. First stop, Jack’s agent. Again.

  “I told you, he’s not interested.” Bobby always struck me as the kind of guy who never grew out of that frat boy phase, yet he somehow managed to (loosely) corral big names like Steele and Rivers and Hampton. Show business is a weird one. “I pitched the role and he immediately shot it down. He doesn’t want to get typecast.”

  “This won’t be typecasting.” I tried to keep my voice level while I flipped off another driver for cutting me off. I didn’t even use my horn. This time. “Derek Stevens is a tough guy, sure, but the film is about his character arc—”

  “You think I don’t know how to read between all the casting director bullshit after fifteen years?” Bobby crunched on something while talking. Dear god, I hoped they weren’t also corn nuts. I smelled an allergy looming on the horizon. “I read the script, Alison. We’re not doing it. This is a shoot ‘em up flick about a dude who pretends to have a heart of gold when he’s really an asshole. Jack might be a big sumbitch, but he’s not going to be that sumbitch.”

  “He could make it so—”

  “No.”

  The bastard hung up. I used this opportunity to lay on my horn thick at the next jackass who nearly clipped my front end. He even got the double bird. Alison Coleman was not fucking around right now.

  Okay, so the agent had continued to be a dead end. I’d worked with this before. I could work around this easy. I mean, I didn’t want to have to use this route, but my career was basically hanging in the balance here. A girl’s gotta do and all that.

  “I never thought I’d see this number come up again.” That oily voice still caused involuntary shivers. “Did you finally reconsider my offer?”

  I gritted my teeth. “As always, I appreciate it, Danny, but I need a different kind of favor.”

  “Fortunately for you, I’m in a giving mood.”

  “Great. I need you to find out where Jack Steele will be tonight.”

  Danny let out a low whistle. “You sure do like them big fish, don’tcha, darlin’?”

  “It’s for work. Danny, please.”

  He clucked his tongue while he ‘mulled it over’. “Tell you what. I’ll give you this one for free. Next time, though, you owe me.”

  “You’re the best in the city, Danny.”

  “Stop it. I’ll call you back.”

  He cut the call dead just as I pulled into my parking garage. From there, it was a mad dash up to my floor for a quick shower and lotion, followed by a total ransack of my closet.

  I massaged some oils into my hair for extra shine, erring on the side of natural beauty. I seemed to be a commodity for certain types of men right now and I wasn’t above exploiting my assets to make this work.

  “Hot date?” Sarah, my best friend and roommate, stuck her head in my room. “I could smell you from down the hall. One of these days, I’m going to steal that lotion.”

  “Over my dead body.” I finally found what I was looking for in the depths of my closet: the most revealing dress I owned. Tastefully covering all my naughty bits while leaving damn near everything else exposed between lace and mesh. Hooker red to match my favorite shoes and my favorite lipstick.

  “Oh shit.” Sarah gaped at me. “You’re actually going for it, aren’t you?”

  Phone in one hand, sexy dress in the other, I could do nothing but smile. “Mama’s about to make some Hollywood magic happen.”

  “Well, tell Mama to bring home some animal style fries once you’ve finished wiping Steele’s face off the floor.”

  “Only if you help zip me into this monstrosity.”

  Some perfume and heels higher than my cup size rounded everything off. Siri ordered me an Uber and left me with nothing in the way between Jack Steele and the soaring future success of my career. That man wasn’t going to know what hit him…and he was going to secure me as a great.

  Chapter 2

  JACK

  “Cut!”

  The busty slate operator did her thing with an extra shake of her ass. Unless I was imagining things, she also shot me a wink and did that really cheesy shit where she ran her tongue over her teeth. In any normal scenario, I’d be DTF, if you know what I’m saying, but I’d watched her inhale three sandwiches during lunch without keeping her goddamn mouth closed while she chewed.

  I could respect a girl who ate as much as me, especially if she was a tiny little thing. That was confusing as hell and I loved it. It also usually meant they were athletic and fun in the bedroom. But keep that trap closed. Gross.

  “Jack?” The commercial director called out, evidently not for the first time, and stared at me expectantly. “You good?”

  “Yeah.” I flashed him a thumbs up and a signature Jack Steele Fake-As-Hell smile. I wanted to get off this ad set as soon as possible. “That felt good.”

  “Great. Well, that’s a wrap on Mr. Steele.”

  Everyone clapped and I donned another fake smile while waving to everyone. It was the longest week of my life, certain legal issues aside, and putting pavement between Sub Girl and myself was crucial. What I originally wanted was a night of watching shitty movies with my bulldog, Statham, but that little ass shake from the slate operator had other ideas churning.

  As a general rule, I didn’t party every night. Too many people watched every fuckin’ move I made and too many people got in my face, so I tried to keep a low profile and my boys deep around me. This goddamn show already had me out three times, but a proper celebration was probably in order.

  “It was so great working with you.” Slate Operator got all breathy as I headed back to my trailer to change and get the hell out of there. “You’ve definitely been one of my favorite guest stars.”

  “Thanks, kid.” I waved and offered a thin smile. “It was my pleasure. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got to change.”

  “I could, um, stick around, if you like.” She pressed herself against a wall, ample tits poking out further. She had sexy down, I’ll give her that, but she’d probably be as sloppy with my dick as she was with her food. Hard pass.

  “That’s awfully kind of you, but I really need to be going.”

  “You sure?” She tr
ied to run a finger down my arm, but I stepped into my trailer. “I won’t tell nobody.”

  Inside, I winced. “Sorry, darlin’. Have a good night.”

  You bet your sweet ass I locked that door as soon as I closed it. I didn’t need a scandal on top of everything else. It was what sports fans would call a ‘rebuilding year’ for me and Sloppy Mouth wasn’t about to fuck it up.

  I changed and pulled on a black button-down over the gray undershirt. I wasn’t even going to go home first. I was going to get my ass to the club as soon as possible to drink away this whole fucking week, and it was going to be on Bobby’s dime for signing me up for this shit.

  I loved that asshole, but fuck, man.

  First, chow. I had the Uber driver take us through In-N-Out for a quick bite before he attempted to pilot through the madness that was LA evening traffic. I paid for his food, too, because I wasn’t an asshole, no matter how hard the tabloids tried to push it. While I scoffed down a 3x3 animal style, I asked the dude about his life outside of Uber.

  “Bleak.” Dude laughed at me through the rearview mirror. “Not nearly as exciting as your life, it seems.”

  “Fuck my life. Too many people in it.”

  “Says the dude who’s on his way to a club?”

  “Booze and bitches doesn’t count. Hey, you got any gum?”

  Uber Matthew opened his glove compartment to show off an almost impressive array of mints and gum and those disposable toothbrushes I never remembered to bring with me. It would be impressive, actually, if it weren’t, you know….mints.

  Still, I let out a low whistle. “I thought they were lying about this shit.”

  “Nah.” Uber Matthew tossed me a handful of different options. “We all have them to some extent. Mine’s just bigger.”

  “And you said your life was looking bleak.” I tossed the guy an extra twenty and thumped him on the shoulder. “Thanks, man. Maybe I’ll get you afterwards.”