Rock Bottom (11 page)

“Not on your life.”

Billie grunted. She’d suspected as much. “So how’s Caleb?”

“I don’t know.” Zin’s terse reply signaled trouble.

“Why? What’s wrong?”

“We haven’t been talking much. Or anything else.”

“Zin…”

“Listen, I have to go. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

Billie frowned at her cell. She knew those avoidance tactics. She’d used them on Zinta. Something must be wrong.

Justin appeared at her side, and gazed out over the bluff. “Pretty cool.”

“Yes, it’s beautiful.”

“You shouldn’t let it get to you.”

Had she been so obvious? “What?”

“Back there. It’s all for show. We’ll film commentary later and intercut it here. Probably Ashley will complain about Jet pushing her away, but allowing Cat to maul him onscreen. They all know the value of screen time.”

“I get it. I needed a walk, that’s all.”

He nodded. “I’m leaving soon to shoot Ashley’s date with Jet.”

Billie chuckled. She’d like to shoot Jet too.

“I’d offer to give you a lift, but I have to ride in the limo.”

“No, don’t worry about me. I can live without witnessing the big date.” So what if Everett squawked. She wrote about music, dammit. Not the dating habits of the semi-rich and used-to-be-famous.

“See you tomorrow.” Justin backed away as if reluctant.

Did he think she’d leap off the bluff or something? “Goodnight.”

Raising her camera, Billie captured a few shots. Enough for one day.

She’d spent the dawn hours on the Malibu Pier, famous for its
Baywatch
babes leaping into the ocean to save men floundering, hoping to be buoyed by Pamela Anderson’s boobs. The Bimbo Squad could give Pam a run for her money in their skimpy tops and shorts, casting their fishing rods into the ocean. Except for Amber, who complained fishing bored her, and yawned frequently. Billie targeted her for Round Two’s elimination.

Predictably, no one caught any fish. The bimbos had bigger fish to fry, anyway: hooking Jet. With his surly attitude, Billie wondered why anyone would want to. Fishing had a reputation for relaxing people, not making them uptight. The fishing industry wouldn’t be asking Jet to be their spokesperson after he’d stomped off the pier an hour later muttering, the contestants scrambling to catch up.

On the beach, Billie stiffened as he neared. Glancing up, his eyes narrowed and he veered away from her. Cat and Ashley paraded by with a gleam of triumph.

Rock Bottom
was four weeks into season two. Billie’s body clock had adjusted after a few days to California time. The rest of her never would.

* * * *

Jet’s fingers slid across the laptop’s touch pad, scrolling the blog page. “Unbelievable.” The best set they’d played in too long, and she ripped even that apart. “Vengeful bitch.”

All the pride bolstering his ego fell away. What was wrong with her? They sounded great.
He’d
sounded great.

And he’d meant what he said about her inspiring him to be better. He’d needed someone to kick his ass into gear, but not to keep kicking it. Damn her. Privately, he could put up with her slams, but trying to turn his fans against him went too far.

A knock sounded. “Yeah.”

Stu peered around the door. “Remember, the winery trip’s on for today.”

Great. Smile for the cameras. Make nice with the girls. Today he felt anything but nice. “What time again?”

“We leave in five minutes.”

“Great.” Some time away from here, at least. “Is Ms. Prescott attending?”

A frown flickered across Stu’s face. “Of course. Why?”

He plopped back against the sofa. “Getting tired of her and her blog.”

Stu pointed. “The blog is shit. But we need to keep Ms. Prescott happy.”

“Right. Like that’s even possible.”

His manager shrugged. “Our ratings are higher every week. Like it or not, the blog’s a big part of it.”

Wincing, he stood. “Whatever. Let’s go.” He’d give her as wide a berth as possible.

“You look great.” Stu’s hand brushed his back. “It’s all good.”

What the hell did that mean? Ah, screw it. Maybe Jet should dumb himself down, lower his expectations so he could say it too.
It’s all good.

Repeating it like a mantra, he followed Stu down to the patio, but he couldn’t get the words out of his head. When his gaze settled on Billie, his fists clenched and he stomped toward her. “Is this how it’s going to be? You reaming me out every day online?”

His anger charged the atmosphere. He hadn’t intended to broach this subject. Seeing her ignited all his senses.

“What?” She held up a hand toward Justin. “Stop filming.” To him, she said, “This isn’t the time--”

“It’s the perfect time. I won’t allow you to write this crap.”

“My feelings aren’t crap.” Her brows furrowed, and hurt edged her voice.

“So now it’s about your feelings, is it?” What about his feelings?

“Yes. As a fan. Aren’t you interested in your fans’ feelings?”

“Please. You’re no fan. You’re a disgruntled reporter. About what, I have no idea. Life in general, maybe?” His sneer softened when his gaze dropped to her mouth.

“I wrote the truth. If you can’t handle it--”

“The truth according to Billie Prescott? What a joke.” He stood so close, he could smell the coffee on her breath, feel her heat.

“Readers don’t think so,” she shot back.

Jet’s nostrils flared, his fists clenched. He flinched at a hand on his shoulder.

Stu said, “Hey, shake it off. We can discuss this later. Right now, your contestants--and your public--await. Please don’t keep them waiting any longer. Or the crew.”

After an intense moment, Jet broke away with a nod. “Sorry. You’re right. I shouldn’t waste my time.” His implied
on her
hung heavy in the air.

Give it up
, he told himself. Somehow, he knew it was easier said than done.

* * * *

As Jet turned away, Billie released a ragged breath. Her senses had sharpened by his nearness. Every part of her snapped aware of every inch of him. At close range, the crystal blue of his eyes had pierced hers.

She silenced the voice within urging her to ask: Hadn’t he read the comments following the blog? Some barbed, but the majority had been positive. Encouraging. Excited about the possibility of Jet recording something new.

She hadn’t meant to wound him. Only to ignite some long-lost spark in his music. The flame in him now appeared more like hatred. Unbridled fury. All aimed at her.

His last cutting comment stuck in Billie’s gut. Instinctively, she slid her palm across her stomach.

Appearing at her side, Justin winked. “Ignore the blowhard.”

Attempting a smile, she stepped back, wishing she could disappear. “Yeah.” Ignore the subject of her assignment. Good advice.

Not wanting to alienate Justin, she said nothing. Right now, he proved the only bright spot.

Jet consulted with Stu a moment, strode back down the stone path. When he emerged again, his smile could melt the panties off an ice queen.

Billie’s insides twisted. The phony. The bimbos ate it up too. All giggly and cozy, Ashley stuck to him like a blonde barnacle, and the others close behind. Danny followed them all to the limo.

Justin tapped her arm. “Come on, I’ll buy you a drink.”

She tried not to smile. “They’re free tonight.”

“Then I’ll buy you a few.” Tilting his head, he urged her to follow and headed to the front.

True to his word, Justin kept her glass filled throughout the afternoon into the evening. She sipped, staying a distance from Jet, who kept a girl beneath each arm at all times. The moment one moved away, he coaxed another to his side. Jet’s smile appeared conspiratorial. Intimate. As if he knew what each could do to him and couldn’t wait for it. The way he flirted, he mistook the winery for a singles bar, though he’d go home with all of them tonight.

Disappointment pricked at her when he never glanced in her direction once. She wandered onto a side deck and leaned over the rail. Light edged the horizon, though the sky overhead darkened and stars emerged one by one.

“Are you all right?” Justin slipped out the door.

Damn. She’d hoped for a moment to gather herself. “Aren’t you supposed to be working?”

“I’m taking five. You’re shivering.” He ran his hands up her arms to her shoulders.

Stiffening, she straightened, looked away. “No, I’m fine.” Hopefully he’d get the hint.

His long legs straddled her. “I bet I could warm you up.” He tilted his head, as if readying to kiss her.

“What? No.” She moved to duck away.

He gripped her arms. “Oh, come on, Billie.”

“No.” Flailing, she jerked from his grasp.

“Everything all right?” Jet stepped through the doorway.

Sliding away to her side, Justin leaned against the rail. “It’s cool, man.”

Apparently unconvinced, Jet stared at Billie. “Is it?”

She hardly knew how to answer. Now, yes. But she didn’t want to get Justin in trouble. Nodding, she whispered, “Yeah.”

With narrowed eyes, Jet glanced from her to the videographer.

If Jet left, she’d have to deal with Justin again. Something she didn’t quite feel up to. “Excuse me.” She strode past Jet and into the hall.

Jet said something to Justin, she couldn’t hear what. Footsteps sounded behind her, but she pushed through the door to the restroom.

At the mirror, two women froze to glare into the glass at her reflection.

Great. Just what she needed. A bimbo confrontation. “Hi, ladies.” She hoped she sounded pleasant, but entered a stall before they could throw anything at her. Following an icy pause, they resumed discussing makeup, Jet and the wine.

Tomorrow, she planned to ask Stu about interviewing the contestants before Jet eliminated the next one. If Stu told them to do it, they’d agree. Maybe she could request all sharp objects be removed from the room ahead of time.

After a few minutes, the two exited, leaving Billie alone. Lately, she seemed to be alone too often, even in a crowd. For now, she welcomed it. Reveled in the blessed silence before she forced herself to go back to the group and face the endless chattering again. To appear busy, she shot a few photos for the blog.

“Psst.” Lowering the videocam, Justin inclined his head.

With a wave, she moved away, ignoring the invitation. Instead, she strolled near the window and pretended to fiddle with the camera to eavesdrop on Stu’s conversation with the winery host.

The man asked Stu how much longer they’d be staying. Stu shrugged. “It’s reality TV, man.”

The employee snapped, “Well, the reality is, we closed an hour ago.”

With a practiced smile, Stu lowered his voice. “You want to say that louder for the cameras?”

The host’s eyes narrowed, and he responded through clenched teeth, “You said you’d be gone by closing. You’re costing us money.”

Jet glanced over and seemed to assess the situation. “What time is it, darlin’?”

“Who cares?” With a sneering smile, Cat sipped her wine.

“It’s eleven.” Amber crossed an arm over her chest, swilling her drink, bored as could be.

Oh yeah, she’d be gone next.

“Eleven?” Jet feigned surprise. “Time to go, then.”

Billie glanced at the winery host who slumped with relief. Jet must have realized they’d overstayed their welcome.

Over the whining cacophony, Jet’s soothing voice rose. “We’ll move the party to the pool. Doesn’t that sound nice? And we’ll buy a few bottles to go, and have a few cases shipped later.” He winked at the employee.

Subversively classy. Making up for their mistake. But she wouldn’t put any of this in tonight’s post.

Cat whooped. “All right.”

Outside, Billie forced herself to wait for the others to climb into the limo, Danny documenting even that.

Carrying his gear, Justin paused at her side. “Ready?”

“Oh yes.” For once, she couldn’t wait to get back to the cottage.

In the car, she added appropriate nods and smiles to Justin’s banter. He went on, not seeming to notice the one-sided conversation.

She couldn’t quite focus on what he said, anyway. In her mind, Jet’s face appeared, scenes replaying vividly. She’d read about his gentlemanly charms, his professionalism in taking care of his band and crew.

“So what do you think?” Justin steered the van into the long driveway and parked behind the limo.

“About what?” Whatever he’d said, she’d missed it.

He knit his brows. “Am I boring you?”

“Sorry, I’m preoccupied. Things going on back at the magazine…”

He shifted to face her. “What things?”

Wishing she hadn’t encouraged more conversation, her mind raced. “Oh, you know. Issues with the editor. Worried he’ll fire me now,” she lied. At least, she hoped it was a lie.

He slid an arm behind her seat. “I’d hate for that to happen.”

Damn.
She didn’t feel up to fending him off again. “Thanks for the ride. See you tomorrow.”

“You’re not leaving already?” he teased.

“I’m exhausted. ’Night.” Before he could say or do anything else, she climbed out.

In the limo ahead, Jet held the door open, watching Billie. Ashley slithered out, shot her a look of sheer poison.

Hearing Justin’s door shut, Billie ducked her head and headed down the sidewalk to her cottage.

The two-room place constricted her. Even her laptop couldn’t release the emotions roiling inside. Worse, she couldn’t quite label them. Surprise, yes. Annoyance, maybe. But something else too. Indefinable but undeniable. Every time she forced herself to think of something else, Jet’s face popped into her head. Angry. Sweet. Yearning…

Having to post photos of him online only reinforced the images. To relieve her brain of overdosing on Jet, she took a novel from her handbag and sprawled in bed. Even that couldn’t distract her for long. After about an hour of reading the same passages and not absorbing anything, she set the book aside and turned off the light.

No matter what position she lay in, she could not get comfortable. “Damn pillow.” She punched it, but the marshmallowy stuffing returned to picture-perfect shape again and again. She slammed it against the headboard. The air even seemed stifling. She rose to open a window. A breeze, even a hot one, would at least stir things up.