Stunt: Hollywood Bad Boy Romance Read online

  STUNT

  A Bad Boy Hollywood Romance

  by

  Savannah May

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  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with.

  Copyright © 2016 Savannah May. All rights reserved. Including the right to reproduce this book or portions thereof, in any form. No part of this text may be reproduced in any form without the express written permission of the author.

  Version 2016.11.04

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  STUNT

  ChapterONE

  Ever wondered what it would be like to arrive in Hollywood to set the town alight with your personal shining star?

  Me too.

  Turns out, your dreams get slapped down faster than you can say fall flat on your face.

  Back home in Comfort, I was the most beautiful girl in town, the girl most likely...to be a trophy.

  Here in LA I'm nobody. And I'm fat.

  That part isn't true, not really, just a few curves with a steeper gradient. But here in the land of the LaLas, girls get fat suctioned as a sixteenth birthday gift. Having flesh in this town is a crime. I haven’t eaten for three weeks. Which is convenient because I also haven’t worked a single day yet and my savings are running out faster than a quarterback heading to a third down.

  Typical stereotype right? Cute hometown girl comes to Hollywood to become a star. Ends up working in a diner. Screw that.

  I’m determined not to be that stereotype. I've run through all the typical roles already in my life. After cheer-leading for years, and dating the QB, I want to do something more.

  Hey, it doesn't stop, the car crash of my life. All set to get engaged to my jock and I discovered he's been cheating on me with one of my crew for three fricking months. Why did I not realize? Her smug little comments to me, always calling me 'Hunty', as in “Don't worry Hunty, no one noticed you missed the beat.”

  Or, “I'm sure Tanner will never leave you, Hunty.”

  I had to come up on them kissing after a game before I saw what was right under my nose. He swore up and down to me that it was a mistake. A quick faux pas made in the exuberance of the win. Being drunk after and just, you know, losing control of himself. He still loved me more than anything, blah, blah, blah.

  I'll give him faux pas – a false pass indeed. Have we not all of us heard it before and been damn fool enough to fall for it?

  Maybe coming to Hollywood was me running away from that. Everyone looking at me with the fake regret. That typical mentality of a town where everyone's known everyone else and all their business for a hundred years. Maybe I wanted them to realize I was different. All I know is I wanted more.

  Here in Hollywood no one knows anyone. People you meet don't remember you the next day, even if they told you their life story the day before. Even my agent doesn't know who I am. At least it seems that way because every time I call in to see if anything's come up, I have to remind him who I am in intricate detail.

  So I am beyond shocked when one day, just as I'm reaching the point of looking for jobs in bars that don't involve my breasts being part of the experience, the phone lights up with Shane Shannon Talent's number.

  “Babe, get yourself over to Paramount by two. Alaine da Bunta wants to see you for a part in his new movie.”

  “Alaine de Bunta, the director?” I squeak.

  “Is there another one?”

  The sweetest words a girl can hear. Even better than 'Baby, I love you' and 'Doll, will you marry me' or those really special ones, 'I promise I'll reciprocate'.

  The director wants to see you for a part in his new movie.

  “What's the role?” I ask, already thinking about getting into character and how I can spend the money I'll have left over after I've managed to make this month's rent.

  Seriously, I'm walking way too close to the breadline here. The money you have to spend to keep a body camera-ready is cray. And it's an endless battle of removing everything that nature put there to remind us we're human animals not robot dolls. Only to have it grow back a couple days later with a vengeance.

  “The role is you go see Alaine de Bunta for whatever part he has available in his Knox Templeton vehicle, Sugar. Fuck, I never had girls this picky. Demanding to know if they're auditioning for girl number one or girl number two. Just get your fat ass down there.”

  Nice.

  “Okay thanks, Shane.” I grit my teeth to reply.

  He's already hung up. And in case you think my confidence is shattered by that last insult, that's what's known as an endearment in Hollywood.

  I don't have time to make it all the way back to my apartment in Santa Monica then back out to the studios. So I duck into Sephora to fix my hair and make-up using all the latest samples. Then I buy a top on sale in Forever 21 that shoves my chest into a provocative swell without telegraphing a look that says 'I'm ready for my spit roast, Mr Demille'.

  I'm on the bus heading toward the studio area, my nerves alight with expectation.

  Don't screw this up, Jenna. This is it. What you've been working for.

  All it takes is one break to get noticed. I can see myself walking the red carpet opening night with my arm linked in Knox Templeton's. My body gets shivery just thinking about him. The biggest star in the world.

  Well, he used to be and the one I drooled for growing up. Every schoolgirl fantasy had him starring front and center with me right by his side. My first time, I imagined Knox Templeton between my legs as I explored down there. Surprised by the tiny explosions of lust I could bring about with my own fingers, in combination with images of Knox flying through my filthy thoughts.

  Honestly, during many of the fumbled moments in the quarterback's bed, I closed my eyes and pictured Knox Templeton. Unlike Tanner's selfish quickie, Knox's tautly ripped body would know exactly how to bring me off, screaming and panting for more.

  He was obviously an expert with women because he had a different one on his arm with each new magazine issue. I grabbed up every publication that contained even a small photo of Knox, and pictured myself in the place of the insta-blond he was escorting that night.

  He always looked so perfect in a designer suit cut perfectly to his body, a light scrub shadow across his strong jaw, dark green eyes with hints of hazel and dirty blond hair brushed back in an 'I'm not trying too hard' style.

  I, Jenna Golden (like the new screen name?) am going to be in a movie with Knox Templeton. Maybe as the girl he has the hots for. A spy he's obliged to take to the bedroom in order to uncover her secrets. Knox had been up for the James Bond role once, but then came all those headlines about him that wrecked his career for a few years. I guess this movie is going to be his comeback after being shamed by bad publicity.

  I never believed a word of it. Knox isn’t the type of man to take advantage of the ladies. Why would he when he can have any woman he wants and half the women in the world are fantasizing over him? I while away the interminable car ride with thou
ghts of being in Knox's bed after he's fallen madly in love with me my first day on set. I can clearly picture the cover of People magazine and our new home in Beverly Hills.

  *

  “Perfect. She's perfect.”

  What? Are they talking about me. Do not look behind you to check who's there.

  My lungs explode with an internal gasp when I hear the shocking words. I was expecting the standard, “We'll let you know, Sugar” the same phrase I've been hearing for the last three months.

  “Perfect. She's perfect.” The casting director looks at Alaine de Bunta who nods his head. They're smiling like we've all hit the Vegas jackpot.

  “Wait, does that mean...”

  Are they saying I've got the part?

  My heart is too far into my mouth to speak. I'm frozen with eagerness boarding on hysteria, my skin tingling warmly up and down. Usually they call the agent with the news. The douche that keeps trying to send me to those other kind of auditions

  “I got a call for you, Sweetheart, but there is a little nudity required. Only topless, no muff stuff.”

  “Forget it, Shane. I told you a hundred times I don’t do that.” My god, my parents would never show their faces in town again. And do people say 'muff' these days?

  I could imagine the smirks from the girls on the squad.

  “I didn't know you were into that kind of acting, Hunty.” No thank you.

  “Be on set tomorrow morning at four. Candace will give you a contract.”

  I want to leap and squeal and high five. My face is hurting, I'm grinning so wide.

  I got the audition. The directors like me enough to hire me on the spot. It's only one line apparently but what the hell. A journey to a starring role starts with the first word. I had that meme stuck on my wall back home – one I transposed from the famous “The journey of a thousand miles starts with a single step.

  My big break. A mega movie with Knox Templeton. If they could see me now. First day on the movie set. Wouldn’t they all be envious.

  Er, no.

  “I don't think so.”

  That voice. Who wouldn’t recognize that sultry hiss anywhere in the world? Emily Jayne. One of the hottest young actresses on the planet right now.

  Who knows why? Aside from she has that typical all-American blonde hottie next door appeal. She must be the co-star. The love interest. The female lead and she had to walk into the casting studio at exactly that moment.

  “In fact I am categorically stating no,” she insists.

  “It's one line, Darling,” Alaine, the director says in his woodsman whine. “No one's going to notice her.”

  “I don’t care if she's going to burp and fart.” Emily Jayne says with a pretty snarl. “It clearly states in my contract that no other female player appearing in any scene with me may be any degrees more blond than me.”

  I'll dye it. Take me to hair and make-up right now. Fuck, I’ll shave it off and wear a beret.

  I need this part. I’ve spent almost all my savings. Money I scrimped to last me a year, even figuring on LA prices has almost evaporated in three months. What with the deposit and rent on the two bed apartment I share with three other girls.

  “I'm willing to...” No one's aware I'm in the room so they pay no attention.

  My...”do anything” trails off as I see my dream opportunity disappearing over the edge of a cliff.

  “Put her in with the atmosphere,” Emily concedes and turns to walk out without a glance at the woman she's just destroyed. “So long as she's off camera,” she adds as her assistant or minder or whatever opens the door for her and she sails on through.

  “Atmosphere?” I say to the panel of men and one woman on the end, wearing a too-tight mini-dress, taking notes.

  “The extras,” she chimes.

  “I can't live on SAG rate,” I yelp.

  “Sorry, Sugar, nothing we can do. Emily has contractual rights chiseled in stone,” Alaine snips. “Plus nothing is worth the tantrums,” he adds as an aside.

  My face feels like it's slipped off my body. I am going to cry. I am literally going to cry and cry. I feel the howling rising up in my body worse than when I discovered my fiance is a ho.

  “Don't cry, Sugar. It's only a movie. They're like buses, there'll be another one along in an hour.”

  The reminder of the zillion hours of my life spent sitting on buses makes my humiliation deepen.

  “I need this job.” I am so much beyond pride, I don't care if I have to beg now.

  I’m beginning to understand how girls become willing to blow someone for a part. Someone get me some knee pads. “I need a job, I haven't earned a penny in three months and I'm nearly out of savings.”

  Alaine, looks irritated, like this is extremely boring and can someone remove this wreck? But the casting director has his eyes all over my heaving boobs and manages a shred of pity.

  “Maybe we have something,” he mutters.

  My heart jumps up again.

  “I'm not going to deal with the tantrums.” Alaine shakes his head a definite no. I'm not sure if he's referring to mine or Emily Jayne's. Probably any.

  “She can't be on set, of course, but you know who needs an assistant.” The director looks like he's thinking through whether to start a nuclear war with a foreign power instead of whether to give some broke begging and bewildered girl a freaking job. “The most recent one left in a flurry of, um, unpleasantness.”

  “Whatever,” he announces, waving it off like he's bored shitless. “That's your department. Can we get to the next actress on line? And someone kick out all the blonds.”

  “Go speak to Candace. Tell her I sent you for the PA job,” the casting director tells me.

  “I don’t know anything about assisting.” I protest. And part of me wants to pipe up to say. “I did not come out here to be a secretary. I could have stayed home with my family if I wanted to be a cubicle drone.” But pride has to be eaten at least for now, or that's all I'll be eating next week.

  I exit the taping room and go look for Candace.

  *

  I stumble out of bed at an ungodly early hour and discover my room mate, Penny, is already up, heading out for a pre-yoga jog. “How do you do it?” I moan.

  “I like to keep in shape.”

  “At five in the morning? I'm exhausted already and the day hasn’t started.”

  “That's the positive to not getting the part.”

  Penny Positive I call her in my head because she's always got to find the silver lining in the worst fucking hurricane.

  “Instead of starting work at 4am, you get to start at 8.”

  “But here's the thing. As talent, I'd be picked up in the middle of the night by one of the roadies and driven to the set. As no-talent, I have to take the bus. And at this hour it's rammed with people heading to their jobs taking care of grown ups too spoiled to do it for themselves.”

  “I guess it will make you appreciate that you're working for a movie star as his assistant, not cleaning his bathroom.”

  “Yeah, because I'm all about the gratitude.”

  “Maybe you'll be the Girl Friday who is discovered

  “Yeah, when the female star has a break down from too much self adoration.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t want to wish anything bad on someone.”

  “Unless that person is Emily Jayne.”

  Penny takes off, probably to get away from my negative vibe. I don't care because I'm actually excited about my first day as Knox Templeton's assistant. I get to work as the right hand girl to my teenage idol.

  From the bus, I stare out at the endless blocks of strip mall and nondescript housing and dream about a different big break. I could be the help that the billionaire falls in love with. Except my hero is the sexiest movie star ever.

  Don't judge me for all these idle fantasies. They're all I've got at the moment.

  ChapterTWO

  No one gives me a second glance when I stumble out of the sunlight into the pitch black h
anger where they're filming a backstreet scene. Don't get any ideas about crashing a film set though. I'm only late because of all the security I had to go through to get my pass card.

  I get to stand on set but on the wrong side. The pitch dark section behind the cameras, crowded with all the people that make the magic. Not only the director and his assistants, the cameraman sitting on the raised dolly behind the enormous equipment, all the props people, techies and electricians, make-up, hair and the various go-fers like me.

  But as assistant to the star, I get to stand behind his chair. Which I was able to find because his name is lettered across the back with three gold stars above. He's close enough that I could touch him. He's even more gorgeous in person than in photos.

  Although movie stars are usually smaller than we imagine in real life, Knox is just as huge as his on-screen characters. His biceps bulging out from the tight tee he's wearing for this scene, tight enough to carve a line of muscle up his flat stomach.

  “Sam, get me a double espresso, make sure it's Italian not any of that new world organic shit,” Knox yells out into the gaping blackness his eyes squinting.

  “That's you,” the prop girl beside me digs me with a skinny elbow.

  “Ow. I'm not Sam.”

  “Sam was his last girl. He won't learn your name for at least a month.”

  “Charming.” I mutter and head to the craft service truck parked outside our set.

  I return with his coffee and he takes it from my hand without looking up. Later, he sends a runner to dump his diaries and a stack of papers referencing his personal life. It takes me an age to wade through it all.

  Three days into the job, Knox still hasn't noticed me. All the dreams of the typical romantic eye lock where Knox's acting skill will demonstrate the moment he instantly realizes I'm the one he's been waiting for are far from coming true.

  He doesn't know I exist. Or rather he knows I exist when he needs something or his life requires organization but he hasn’t looked up at me even once. And he's never asked for my name or anything about me as me. I'm just his no name faceless go-fer girl. A week on the job and nothing's changed.