Contracted For Love: Famous Love Series (2 page)

She slammed the door behind her and bolted down the hallway as he continued to shout at her, but she wasn’t even listening, since her heart was pounding in her ears. Charlotte ran headlong into the street and past the security guard, who barely looked up at her. She suddenly knew she wasn’t the first woman he’d seen running from these offices after hours.

What a sick fucking place this is!

***

At around the same time that Charlotte was stomping on Richard James’ most prized possession, Jack was hanging out in the green room before his latest television appearance on the Ricky Pearson show. He hated Ricky Pearson; the guy was a complete dick and didn’t care what he had to do to boost his ratings. Freddy stood in front of him and reminded him again not to lose his temper once the cameras were rolling.

“Why did you even book this show? You know what Ricky’s like. He’d distribute his own mother’s sex tape, if he thought it would get him publicity.”

“I know, but I booked you for this for exactly that reason. This is the best place for you to cement your new image. You can drop the F-bomb on this show, like you can’t on the others. This is where you can show people you’re not that child star, anymore, making cheesy toothpaste commercials and dancing in teeny, tiny, cute, little tuxedos.”

Jack scowled at the reference. His mother still loved that commercial more than anything he’d ever done in his career. It was a time in his life he could not escape; every time a television show decided to feature him, that cute kid with the piercing, blue eyes would pop up in his tap shoes and tuxedo. It didn’t matter that he’d made several movies, which had been massive box office successes, since then. It didn’t matter that he’d taken time out and was now back years later with a new music career. Jack couldn’t believe the ad was haunting him all these years later, even now that he was a famous rock star with rock-hard abs to match.

“Fuck that tuxedo.” Jack flopped down onto the couch, careful not to mess up his hair.

“Yes, that’s what Ricky can do for you. So, get out there, smile, show off that six pack, and let the world see what Jack Fawkner’s all about now—and reconsider what we talked about.”

“No way. There’s no way I’m changing my name. My name is my name and even if it will help shed the kid image, I’m not changing it.”

Freddy sighed and turned away to watch the screen showing the current guest, Missy Adams, being grilled by Ricky about the best way to eat a banana. The former porn star, who now had her own television show, was playing along beautifully; Ricky was milking the camera angles as much as he could. Freddy could visualise the control room and the director’s absolute delight at Missy’s antics.

He glanced at Jack and worried that the audience would be disappointed with him after the lewd Missy Adams had regaled them. Jack would be performing at the end of the show, though, and that always wowed them. Even if he couldn’t bring himself to milk the image change thing, he was a hell of a performer when his moment came.

“What the fuck is she doing to that carrot?” Jack asked from the couch.

“God knows, but maybe I should have arranged to get you both out there together. She probably wouldn’t have missed her chance to fawn all over you, and that would definitely have shown how adult you are. I might have gotten it wrong, insisting that you go on alone.”

“Or you saved me from being mauled by an aging ex-porn star.”

“Don’t knock it ‘till you’ve tried it,” Freddy chuckled as Jack rolled his eyes and gave up trying to protect his hair. He stretched out on the couch and closed his eyes, but he opened them again as an image of Charlotte and her delectable lips floated into his mind. Jesus Christ, was there no peace to be had anywhere? Why was he thinking of those lips, now? Was extending his career worth it? He already had a stack of money in the bank; why hadn’t he just retired with his cash and been content with being a child star who’d bought his mom a house?

Because you’re not ready to give it up.

He knew that, already—he didn’t need a little voice in his head to remind him. Jack was in this for the long haul and always had been. Even as a four-year-old, he’d dreamed of being an old rock star, rubbing shoulders with other old rock stars at the awards ceremonies he’d seen on television. His career progression was a marathon, not a sprint, as they said. Jack was at the exhausting stage, now, where you had to fight yourself every step of the way to make sure you didn’t give up. A year or two from now, he’d pop out on the other side and be able to see the glorious finish line: the trophy podium where all his dreams lay. Until then, he had to endure idiots like Ricky Pearson and their inane questions. He heaved himself off the couch as the door opened and he was informed that he had five minutes until he was due on set.

To pass the time, he said to Freddy, “What the hell kind of name is ‘Jax,’ anyway?”

Freddy’s eyes lit up. “It’s a perfect name. Jax.” He tested how it sounded on his tongue. “Women will swoon for it and men will want to emulate it. It’ll be up there with the biggest stars, who only need their first name mentioned for us to know exactly who they are.” Freddy swung his hand in front of him like he was revealing a billboard of shining lights spelling out his name. “Not even Michael Jackson managed to achieve that.”

The assistant appeared and indicated for Jack to follow her.

“Trust me, kid, I know what I’m talking about.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Jack shook his head and stormed out, shouting over his shoulder, “Even you call me a fucking kid!”

***

Ricky Pearson was as annoying and infantile as Jack remembered.

He made jokes about Jack having only just reached the drinking age, even though he’d recently turned twenty-nine. He also kept referring to the series that had given Jack his big break as a seven-year-old. Worse than that, though, he played the tuxedo kid video and Jack had to watch his younger, baby-faced self, smiling at the camera and tapping out that familiar routine.

“Can you still do that routine, Jackie?” Ricky asked him as Jack imagined what it would be like to punch him in the mouth. Ricky’s perfectly straight, white teeth tempted him, but Jack leaned back on the couch and did his best to outwardly look relaxed at the use of his child actor name. Freddy lurked behind Ricky off camera and Jack could see him shaking his head and urging Jack to stay calm.

Like fuck.

“I probably can. I’ve seen the video replay enough times, now, and I think I’m ageing pretty well.” The audience confirmed that with one woman screaming that she loved him. He smiled and thanked her before turning to Ricky. “I’m looking forward to teaching my kids how to do that, one day.” He saw Freddy give him a thumbs up as he managed to slip in two of the references to adulthood they’d talked about.

“Kids? Wow, it’s hard to imagine you having kids.”

“Why? I’m an old man, now, by Hollywood standards.” Jack tried not to let his jaw show that he was gritting his teeth.

“Well, it feels like we’ve only just gotten used to seeing you out of diapers.” The crowd laughed and Jack clenched the fist furthest from the audience, as Ricky turned to them. “Don’t you all still think of him as little Jackie Fawkner?” The crowd cheered in response and a couple of people whistled as Jack groaned inwardly.

Changing my image is taking too fucking long.

He stood from the couch and drew himself up to his full height of six feet, two inches. He nearly laughed out loud at the panic on Freddy’s face and the second of uncertainty on Ricky’s grinning mug. Jack slowly looked out to the audience, made eye contact with a woman he could barely see through the bright studio lights, and smiled at her. She smiled too.

“Excuse me for a second, Ricky,” he said, and he headed toward the woman. The cameraman and all the crew suddenly launched themselves into action as they followed his path into the audience. He stopped in front of the woman and silently said an apology for what he was about to do. He then took her hand as she gazed at his smiling face and used his other hand to slowly pull his shirt out of the tight, denim jeans he was wearing. He did it slowly, without breaking eye contact with the woman for a second. She couldn’t tear her eyes off him, but he knew she was dying to see what his other hand was doing.

Finally, he pulled his shirt up to reveal his taut, tanned abdomen. Jack placed the woman’s hand on his washboard stomach and took his time looking from her to the camera. With a cheeky twinkle in his eye, he said to her, “Does this feel like little Jackie Fawkner, baby?” She blushed deep red and laughed as she kept her hand firmly on his skin. He reached up to pull his shirt off and threw it into the crowd; several women shrieked and reached up to catch it. “Does that smell like little Jackie Fawkner’s shirt?” He called to them.

The woman who’d ended up with it stood on her seat and raised his shirt to her nose, keeping her eyes on his the whole time. She sniffed and closed her eyes for a second, before turning to the camera with a smile and announcing, to Jack’s utter relief, “This shirt smells of Jack Fawkner, Ricky, and I guarantee this scent is all delicious man.” A wild cheer went up from the audience, and Jack leaned down to kiss the woman with her hand on his stomach. She squealed into his mouth.

After sauntering back to the stage, he plopped down on the couch and stretched out with a self-satisfied smile.

Take that, Ricky Pearson, you dick!

Ricky wasn’t done with him, though. He watched Jack with a calculating look, determined to have the last word. He waited for the crowd to settle down before turning to Jack with an innocent expression. Freddy held his breath behind the set as everyone waited for Ricky to speak.

“So, Jackie,” he held up a placating hand with a smile, “Jack. If you’re so grown up, why have you never had a grown-up girlfriend?”

“I’ve had girlfriends, Ricky—I’m just a little more discrete than most people.”

“Really? Because most of your new lyrics are about love and relationships, yet we don’t see you out with any women. Some people might even be starting to ask questions about your sexuality. Not me, of course, but you have to admit that it’s a common question. How can you write and sing about love, if you’ve never been in love?”

Jack clenched his fist again and turned to the left so he couldn’t see Freddy’s frantic signalling. He smiled at Ricky and prepared for the pleasurable sound of his nose breaking.

***

As Jack was forcefully thrown out of the studio, onto the street, Freddy came running out behind him. “What the fuck was that? You fucked up your chance to perform at the end of the show! That’s the part that gets you remembered!”

Jack grinned at him as he rubbed his knuckles and turned away to walk down the street. He had a spring in his step that hadn’t been there before he’d landed that first punch on Ricky’s big mouth. “Oh, I’m pretty sure I’m going to be remembered for this. New plan, Freddy. They want an adult, so I’m going to give them an adult. Adults fight, right? Ricky is step one. Step two is a grown-up girlfriend, but we’ve already got that covered, too, don’t we? Get Charlotte Shipton’s agent on the phone. I want a wife to go with my new adult image.”

Three days later, Charlotte and Jack sat staring at each other across the boardroom table. Jay and Freddy were seated to either side of them with notepads at the ready. The atmosphere in the room was hostile, to say the least, as they tried to come to some arrangement about their secret marriage contract.

“I want a fairytale wedding—and I don’t want my parents to pay for it.”

“Of course you do. Why would I expect anything less than that from an Australian princess?” Jack sneered at her.

“Like I’ve said previously, Jack, fuck you.” She smiled at him in her most unfriendly way. “I don’t want my parents to have to pay for a fake wedding. If you’re not going to let me tell them, then I don’t want them paying out of pocket for this crap. They work hard for their money and it’s not fair.”

“The money I’ll be using to pay for your fairytale was hard-earned, too, sweetheart.”

She sighed and got up from the table to look out the window. Who’d have thought she’d end up here, in this room, agreeing to this ridiculous plan? She’d been determined that it wouldn’t happen, but the Richard James fiasco had finally convinced her that she needed to do something radical to get this acting lark into the fast lane. She’d signed the contract for the part Richard’s assistant had forwarded to her, but she was dreading running into him on set. This marriage to, admittedly, one of the most gorgeous and eligible men on the planet, meant she’d never be put in that situation again.

“Okay, so we get married on the Vegas Strip. Elvis can do it, for all I care. It’ll look fancy, but it’ll be cheap. Having only close friends will keep the cost down, and you and I can split it.”

Jay frowned at her, “Charlotte, you can’t afford that, can you?”

“Nope, but my father is not paying for my fucking fake wedding, nor for my divorce three years from now.” She looked at Jack. “I’m sure you’ll be keen as mustard to fork over for
that
part and put this all behind you.”

“You got it, Princess.”

“If you keep referring to me as ‘Princess,’ I’m going to give you a nickname—and if you don’t like my swearing, you definitely won’t like your new name.” She glared at him, daring him to speak.

He turned his attention to Freddy, instead. “You said we have to live together. I don’t want to move, so we’ll live at my place.”

“You’ll pay all the expenses?” she asked.

“God, woman, it’s all about the money for you, isn’t it? What kind of a freaking gold digger did you hook me up with, Freddy?” It was his turn to slam away from the table and pace the room as Charlotte watched him with interest.

He really is a rude fucking pig. I thought he’d be a lot nicer in person.

“Well, you already think the worst of me, so let’s get the biggest one out on the table,” she paused for effect, “I want a prenuptual agreement.”

“Oh my God. You’re too much—too much! I’m going for a walk.” With that, he stormed out of the room and down the hallway to the elevators with Freddy hurrying after him.

***

“I can’t do it, Freddy. This is just not going to work.”

“Calm down. It’s only three years—it will be done before you even know it.”

“That’s easy for you to say, because you won’t be marrying her! What if I meet someone in the meantime who I actually do like? What if I fall in love, Freddy?”

“Then you screw around for a while, like everyone else does. You don’t think those long-term Hollywood power marriages last because both parties are faithful, do you?”

“I know that,” Jack sighed, thinking of his own parents’ loveless marriage. “I’ve been around long enough to know that.”

Freddy clapped him on the back. “So, that’s what you do. Look good for the press, give the girl her fairytale wedding, and take the giant leap into the world of the rock god, just like you deserve. Just keep a piece of ass on the side for those lonely nights. Hell, take her with you on the upcoming tour, if you want. It’s not like Charlotte wants anything from you in return. Did you see the steam coming out of her ears when she found out what Jay and I had negotiated?”

“I wasn’t too thrilled, myself, Freddy. You need to run something big like this by me. I know you’re my agent and we’ve been at this for a long time, but this is going a bit far—even for you.”

As they turned to go inside, Freddy grinned and slapped him on the back again. “I know,” he said with barely-masked glee. “I’ve totally outdone myself.”

***

“I will not agree to a prenup that gives you money when we get divorced. It’s not going to happen,” he ground out between gritted teeth ten minutes later.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, you self-centred pretty boy. I want an agreement that says I get nothing, you idiot. I don’t ever want to hear that I married anyone for their money. If we’re going to do this, I’m not going to be portrayed as a gold digger, as you so eloquently put it.” She glared at him again as his eyes widened in surprise. “I don’t want your fucking money. I saved every penny I made for two years, so I could have the chance to come here, and I’ve only got six months left before I have to go home. This is my best chance of getting to my goal quickly, before my time runs out.”

“No money when we divorce. Done. And yes, I’ll gladly pay for the divorce. Next thing on your list?” Jack waved a hand at the neatly-printed sheet in front of her, as she looked down to scan through the words.

“I mentioned you paying the household expenses, before, and there’s a reason for that. I can’t begin to imagine where you live, but I know it’s not like the two-bedroom flat I share with two other people. I spend barely any money, I don’t eat out, and I walk to auditions, instead of taking a cab. I simply cannot afford to split the expenses with you, especially since I imagine you have household staff of some sort. When I start to earn money, that might change, but right now it’s a problem.”

He leaned back in his chair and stared at her long enough to make her fidget. They’d gone through a lot of details today and he just wanted to get his hands on his guitar and relax. He sighed and stood. “I have to get out of here; I can’t stand any more of this, today. Let’s meet here tomorrow with what we’ve already agreed to and we can take it from there.” As he moved past Freddy, he bent over and spoke quietly into this ear. Then he was gone, striding confidently down the hallway without even a goodbye.

Freddy turned to Charlotte and Jay, “Great news: Jack’s prepared to pay for the fairytale.”

***

“What if you die?”

“We’ll add a clause that, if I die before the three years is up, you’ll receive a payout.”

Freddy spoke up from the corner, “Woah, woah there. I don’t think that’s necessary. What if she has a hand in killing you just to get the money?”

Jack sighed. They were sitting here for the second long day and it looked like this deal was never going to be finalised. He had the overwhelming desire to hit the studio and make music all night to build on what he’d been doing yesterday evening. At this rate, though, it would be Christmas before he got to record a single note.

“Well, word it so that, if she kills me or arranges someone to kill me, she gets nothing. If I’m killed by any other means, though, the payout goes ahead.”

Charlotte glared at Freddy while she addressed Jack, “If you die prematurely, it will one hundred percent be because I have killed you—with my own bare hands. Count on it!”

“Well, count on paying your own legal fees, then, because my money won’t be covering your defence.” He tried not to let the smile show on his face at her bravado. She was a feisty bundle of energy, so certain of herself in every way. If they’d met under any other circumstances, he might have asked her out.

When he was acting, he might have worried that her foul mouth would reflect badly on him, but now that he’d turned his attention to music, her cursing might be a blessing. Maybe he had a chance to get a real benefit out of this marriage, yet. Maybe he should get it written into the contract that she had to come on the Ricky Pearson show with him.

“I’m not having sex with you—that better not be in the contract.” Her comment snapped him to attention.

“Thank God someone brought it up. No one expects us to consummate this fake marriage, surely?” Jack glanced from Freddy to Jay as he tried to ignore the vision that had just popped into his head. Images of a naked Charlotte stretched out in his bed were not going to help this deal get finalised any quicker.

What the hell is wrong with me?

“We’re not totally insane. What you choose to do about that is totally up to you two.” Jay paused, as though uncertain whether to continue. “What we will need, though, is some snaps of you being in love. Make sure that, when you go on vacation, you go to the beach and cuddle in the water, or create some other situation worth reporting. It also wouldn’t hurt to be seen holding hands in public. People in love do that, you know.”

“Oh, I didn’t know,” Charlotte said, her voice dripping with sarcasm, “since I’m having an arranged marriage, instead of actually meeting someone and falling in love.”

“Well, you’re both actors: it shouldn’t be too hard to pull off.”

“How are we supposed to keep this a secret if there’s a written contract?” Jack suddenly asked. “What’s to stop someone from getting a copy?”

“There’ll only be two copies: one for each party. We’ll keep them in our safe, where there’s no chance of anyone seeing them.” Jay answered.

“People keep their sex tapes in their safes and they still show up online,” Charlotte said.

“Well, you don’t have to worry about that.” Jack snarled at her as he jumped out of his seat to stare out the window.

“I’ll make a sex tape if I bloody well want to.”

He gritted his teeth to wipe out the thought of her naked again. Dear God, how was he going to get through this with her living in his house? It was lucky he couldn’t stand her. “Not while we’re married, Princess.”

Charlotte rose from her chair in slow motion, and moved toward Jack at the window. Jay and Freddy prepared for the explosion they were sure was coming.

“What does that mean?” she asked in a quiet voice.

He turned and stared straight into her hazel-flecked eyes, which were flashing with fire. “That means you’d better not make a sex tape and leak it while we’re married. I will not be married to someone who does that. My reputation is on the line, here.” He spoke to Freddy without taking his eyes off hers, “Include that in the contract, Freddy. No sex tapes with other men.”

“If I can’t make one, then neither can he.”

He laughed at her words and glared at her. “The last thing I’d do is make a sex tape, Princess. I don’t
need
to do that.”

“Stop calling me ‘Princess,’ Fuckwit.” She stepped forward, so she was totally in his personal space, and looked up at him. She batted her eyelashes once or twice for good measure and whispered up at him, “Do you want to make a sex tape with me, instead?”

They stared at each other as Jay and Freddy looked on with interest. The atmosphere in the room had changed slightly, but neither agent could quite put their finger on the difference. Charlotte and Jack continued to stare at each other, like some sort of dare had been laid down between them. Jack resisted the crazy urge to glance down at her cleavage. His hand itched to reach up and touch…

Charlotte was the first to break eye contact and return to sit at the table. “No sex tape for us.” Jack’s sigh of relief was audible. “I have one more item to add to the contract before I’ll sign it, though,” she said sweetly.

“Great. What do you want to add?” Freddy rubbed his hands together in anticipation.

“The fuckwit,” she jerked her head toward Jack, “can’t have any sex outside of this marriage.”

***

“What the fuck, Freddy?”

“Now you sound like her!” Freddy chuckled as they whispered outside the conference room they’d hired to work on the deal.

“After several days of it, it’s difficult not to let it rub off.” Jack dragged his hand across his eyes and tried to rub away the stress from his forehead. He kept his eyes glued to Freddy, in case he accidently glanced through the glass at Charlotte, who’d taken to twirling her blonde hair around her finger as soon as she’d made her final demand. “You said I could keep seeing other people. How the hell can I go three years without sex?”

“Oh, for God’s sake, you wouldn’t stick to the contract, would you?”

“What? You mean I have to follow the rest and she has to follow her parts, but I can just conveniently ignore this? What if she finds out and goes ahead and makes a sex tape? What then?”

“She won’t make a sex tape. She’s all talk, that one. Just agree to this, and we can get it signed. I don’t know why you’re freaking out so much—it’s been four years since you broke up with the last one and you didn’t seem too concerned about all that time spent single.”

“Yeah, well, it’s unpleasant when you suddenly have it confirmed in writing that you’re going be celibate for three years. You know I don’t want to marry a celebrity. I want to marry someone normal, who’s not part of this crazy business.”