Mr. Hollywood (Celebrity #1) (4 page)

“
Totally!
Totally!
”
I bullshitted.
“
It
’
s
a crisis point in someone
’
s life, but I
’
ve just got to say, if you
’
re in treatment, be proud! You
’
ve taken a big step
—
a step up. And that
’
s what life is really all about,
isn
’
t it? Moving up?
”
That was true, at least. Now if I
could just figure out how to apply it to myself, I
’
d have it made. At least I would if
I cared.

Placing a hand on my arm, Margo smiled. Score! She
touched me. That blowjob was so going to happen.
“
Always
a pleasure to speak with you, Z.
”

Not as much pleasure as I plan to
give you later,
I
thought. My eyes never left her, and I sent her a heated stare.
“
The pleasure is all mine,
”
I replied, imagining her mouth
doing crazy things to me. She gave me a knowing look in return. Yeah, she was
down for it.

Turning toward the crowd she presented me again.
“
Z McCartney, ladies and gentlemen.
A first class act, right here!
”
It was all I could do to not
snort, that comment was so far off base. There wasn
’
t a damn classy thing about me.

Waving again, I listened as Penelope reappeared at my
side.
“
You have a minute to run over and
do autographs and pictures with the fans.
”

Some unseen person snatched the microphone from my
hand, and I smiled and jogged down the steps as I
’
d
been told, merely a dancing puppet on a string.

The crowd rippled and surged in my direction, bodies
pressing forward in every which way, holding out pens and paper, or photos and
memorabilia to be signed. Others were furiously snapping images or video with
their cameras, the light causing my eyes to blur.

“
Hey,
everyone!
”
I shouted so they could hear
me.
“
Thanks for coming tonight!
”
A marker magically appeared in my
hand, and I reached for someone
’
s paper, scrawling my signature as
quickly as possible. Hands grabbed at me, some clutching my jacket and pulling
me closer. I could barely hear over the people shouting my name, trying to get
my attention. Laughing, I shook my head as the bodyguards pressed in, telling
people to calm down and move back. Thankfully, they obeyed, saving any further
drama, and I hastily signed several more things
—
including
one very nice breast
—
before posing for a couple of
pictures.
“
Sorry! I
’
ve got to go!
”
I yelled with a wave, returning to
Penelope
’
s side so she could continue to
usher me along.

After a couple more interview stops and repeat
interactions with fans, we finally reached the end of the carpet and were escorted
the rest of the way into the theater itself. Glancing around the room, I saw
several people that I knew, but right now I didn
’
t
want to talk to anyone. Right now I wanted to make my escape.

“
Penelope,
I
’
m gonna use the restroom real
quick,
”
I said, easily slipping back into
my old comfortable lazy speech patterns. I didn
’
t
do it often, and when I did, it really was only one or two words, but it still
annoyed her. She called it my
“
country farm boy
”
accent. I hadn
’
t been on a farm in so long, I wasn
’
t sure if I remembered what one
looked like. If I were being honest though, I was glad someone could still see
anything in me that resembled that farm boy. Wistfully
—
for at least the millionth time
—
I wished I could be back in that
life again, even if just for a day. But that was never going to happen. I
’
d fucked too much shit up.

Ducking around the corner, I made my way through the
building. Spotting a little used side door, I hurried toward it.

“
Z!
”
someone called out. I didn
’
t want to turn around when I was so
close to getting away. Turning, I glanced behind me, not surprised to find
Margo Tamson hurrying in my direction.

Smiling, I stopped and faced her. I knew exactly what
she was after and I didn
’
t mind giving it to her.

“
Hey,
”
I said casually as she got closer,
my eyes traveling over the way her gown molded to her figure.
“
What
’
s
up?
”
A guy had to play it casual and
make it seem like he could just as easily walk away as staying to talk. I knew
all the tricks.

“
I
wanted to speak to you in private,
”
she said, and I glanced
around. There was an unmarked door down the opposite wall a few feet away.
Moving next to it. I tested a knob, surprised when it opened. Peering inside, I
saw it was a small supply closet, big enough to hold a vacuum, a couple of brooms
and some cleaning supplies.

Turning, I smiled and gestured to her.
“
Step into my private office then.
”

Happily, she entered without question. Yep, I
’
d pegged it just right. I knew
exactly what she wanted from me. Too bad she wasn
’
t
going to get it, but I was going to get what I wanted from her.

Ten minutes later, I stepped out of the closet,
zipping my pants up over my penis, which was now smeared with red lipstick, and
carrying a card with her private number on it so we could hook up again later.
Margo wouldn
’
t need any of those lip plumping
injections she was famous for any time soon. I
’
d
fucked the shit out of those lips. They were going to be nice and swollen, at
least for the rest of the evening.

Glancing around to make sure Penelope was nowhere in sight,
I slipped out the back exit. The waiting limousine was sitting right where I
told the driver to park, in the lot behind Madame Tussaud's Wax Museum.
Flinging the door open, I slipped inside and found a grinning Stephanie.
Smiling, I felt proud I remembered her name, especially since I
’
d been with someone else in the
thirty minutes since I
’
d seen her.

“
Ready
to pick up where we left off?
”
she asked, holding the mirror
out toward me.

With more coke?
Hell, yes.
The answer was
always yes to coke, but I like to space it out at decent intervals. Cocaine
could turn a person into a sexual beast with a drive that was insane, but too
much could kill it just as quickly.

“
You
have no idea how ready,
”
I replied, thumping my fist
against the roof and the car pulled away from the curb. Taking the mirror, I
accepted the rolled up bill she handed me and began snorting away, hoping to
feel some blessed relief from the demons working overtime in my head.

Wincing slightly, I mustered enough energy to crack
open one eye before immediately shutting it again, the filtered sunlight almost
too much to bear.  It took several moments before I ventured an attempt again,
this time glancing around as my vision adjusted.

Where the hell was I?

Nothing in the room looked familiar, and a quick
inspection of the bed revealed not one, but two very naked girls. One of them I
recognized from last night
—
Stephanie. She
’
d been the party girl sent with the
drugs I
’
d ordered. Had we ordered more? I
seriously couldn
’
t remember hardly anything about
last night. It was all a blur
—
but I liked it that way. It got me
out of my own head.

Groaning slightly, I reached under the sheet and
palmed my dick. It seemed pretty tender, suggesting a lot of hard fucking had
happened. Glancing back at the slumbering women, I hoped they
’
d enjoyed it. For that matter, I
hope that I had enjoyed it, too.

Thankfully, I wasn
’
t
stuck in the middle of the two. Moving carefully, I stood and began gathering
pieces of clothing, putting them on as I recovered them. My phone was still in
my pocket, but I couldn
’
t even call for a cab. I had no
idea where I was.

Quietly, I slipped out the door, into a hallway with a
bunch of other doors like this one. Clearly I was in an apartment building. I
made my way downstairs and out onto the street.

Residential.

I was unfamiliar with this part of town, despite
living here for ten years. It wasn
’
t the first time I
’
d waken and not known where I was.
In fact, it was happening a lot more frequently. Guilt pricked at my
conscience. Apparently I wasn
’
t one of those people who learned
from my past mistakes. I brushed that thought away before I could dwell on it
any further.

Walking down to the corner, I read the street signs,
quickly taking out my phone and calling a cab, before settling down on the
sidewalk to wait. Patting my coat, which was way too hot to be wearing this
morning, I located my sunglasses I always carried, just in case there was a
need to hide my identity a little. I slipped them on, even though sitting on a
corner in a crumpled suit was probably going to make me stick out like a sore
thumb anyway.

If only my diehard fans could see me now. They
’
d think of me a whole lot
differently. Everyone idolized me. People constantly told me how lucky I was,
and how they wished they could trade places with me.

Bullshit. It was all bullshit. I wasn
’
t even close to the person I
’
d been portrayed as. Nope, I was
just a chicken shit
—
a washed up sell out with no
happiness in his life.

Sure, I had it all
—
the
glass penthouse in the sky, bought with my massive fat paychecks. I had cars,
and fancy clothes, along with every tech gadget in the world. Women were always
after me. Most men wanted to be me. But at what cost? What did it really
matter?

My life meant nothing to me. It was just a blur of
different faces, most of who were only interested in what
I
could give
them
. Of course, I guess I was using
all of them in some form or another, too.

Staring at my phone, which was somehow still clinging
to life, I wondered if I had enough battery to check my texts and messages.

“
Oh
my gosh, Z. Where the hell are you? Everyone is asking for you.
”
Penelope
’
s frantic voice filled my ear and I
felt my second twinge of guilt. She was a good assistant. It was wrong of me to
ditch her like I had and leave her holding the bag.

More messages of the same ilk left me feeling pretty
sucky, but the last one took the cake. It had been sent this morning. Glancing
at the time, I realized it was almost ten AM.

Shit!
I had press junkets I was supposed
to do today.