Strife: Part Two (The Strife Series Book 2) (3 page)

DMITRI

I press my back against the door, listening to the faint sound of Alexis' footsteps as they pad down the hall, then the dinging of the elevator as it opens to her. I hate that I'm sending her back out into the world with nothing but a box of biscuits and leftover pancakes.

Part of me wants to go after her, but I know there's no point. I have business to attend to, and I can't exactly keep her hostage. Besides, this is the life she chose and I need to let her live it.

I push myself away from the door with a sigh and finish getting ready for the big day ahead. Soon I'll be meeting the cast and crew of Master of Payback, the movie that I'm staring in. More importantly, I'll be meeting Marie Overton, the woman of my dreams.

Half of my goal for coming here was to woe and marry her. It's been all I've been able to think about ever since I found out she was cast as the heroine. Well, all I was able to think about until last night.

I shake my head, clearing away thoughts of the melancholy blonde-haired beauty who shared my bed last night. It's time to get back to reality, to my real life. I didn't come to California to be a hero, I came to further my career, and that's exactly what I need to focus on. Further my career and hopefully find someone to settle down with.

At thirty-five, and after a long career in the music business, I'm tired of girls just throwing themselves at me. I want to give chase like a man is supposed to. That's part of the reason why I'm so excited about meeting Marie. She's gorgeous, sophisticated, wealthy, and on my same level professionally.

As I call for the limo to come pick me up, my eyes drift to the empty plates on the dining room table. Then they land on the cash still sitting there, and I feel a pang in my chest. Alexis didn't take the money. To be honest, I kind of thought she would when I wasn't looking. Now I feel bad for thinking that.

I scoop up the bills and shove them back in my wallet before heading downstairs. Even though I try to psych myself out for the business luncheon, I find that my mind keeps drifting back to Alexis. To the awkward way that her body moved in front of mine when I was trying to teach her to dance. To the sad song that she strummed out on my guitar. To the gorgeous silhouette of her practically naked body on my bed. That last part makes me feel randy, which is completely inappropriate when I'm about to walk into a room full of important people.

Get it together, Dmitri. Out of sight, out of mind. On to better things. On to Marie Overton.

***

The luncheon is every bit as hectic as I expected it would be. We're a large group, and so the producer decided to have the event privately catered for on one of the sets. It's a good opportunity to get familiar with everyone before we start filming tomorrow.

I do my best to be friendly, shaking hands and trying to remember names. All the while, I scan the crowd for Marie, but she's nowhere to be seen. Apparently, no one is too worried about starting without her. We take our seats around a long set of tables that have been pushed together from end to end. The producer and director toast the hopeful success of the movie, and we start eating as if her absence doesn't even matter.

Finally, after most of the festivities are over, I pull the director aside for some chatty conversation, easing into what I really want to know. “So, Marie didn't show up?”

“Nah.” He brushes it off with a wave of his hand. “She's worked with a lot of the people here, so she probably didn't think it was necessary.”

“I see.” I do my best to pretend like it doesn't matter. Inside, I feel kind of shitty. If she didn't think it was necessary, then it most likely also means she isn't particularly interested in meeting me. Definitely not as interested as I was in meeting her.

“These things aren't mandatory. It's just something we like to do so that people aren't all nervous about meeting everyone on the first day,” he continues.

I nod and smile, still stuck inside my head. I had hoped to ask her to dinner tonight. With that no longer an option, I'll have to come up with other plans. Either that or I could just chill at the hotel and practice my lines.

“It's a great idea. I'm glad you guys put it together.” I look across the room at the producer, who is talking to some of my co-stars.

“I'm glad we were able to hook you for the lead.” He places a hand on my shoulder. “I'm sure you'll do great.”

“I'll try not to let you down.”

“You won't.” He shakes his head as if the notion is silly and then walks away from me to continue socializing with everyone else.

I'm used to being surrounded by strangers, keeping up a happy appearance and trying to give everyone equal attention. Even after all these years, though, it's still kind of draining. By the time the luncheon is over, I just want to go somewhere and unwind. Not back to the hotel. If I go back to the hotel, I'll just brood about how I'm going to have to wait until tomorrow to meet Marie.

I stand outside of the movie set and call John to see if he wants to go have drinks. I'm kind of curious about what all went down last night when I was holed up in my room with Alexis. I got to see some of it when I went to ask James if I could steal Alexis away. Skin and sex and sin. Part of me still regrets not indulging in it, but I have to keep reminding myself that I did the right thing. Sex is only a temporary fix for the loneliness I'm feeling inside, a loneliness I was hoping to rectify by coming to California and meeting Marie.

***

“You missed so much last night,” John tells me with an ear to ear grin. His beady brown eyes have dark circles under them, which is a good indication that he was out late.

“I'm sure I did.” I sip my Crown and Coke, staring out into the street.

There is a gaggle of girls gathered around, taking my picture from afar and pointing and giggling. I do my best to ignore them, praying they don't come to ask for my autograph. We've only been at this bar for about fifteen minutes, and the vast majority of that time has been spent talking to fans and signing autographs. I'm beginning to wish we would have gone somewhere more private.

“The sex was amazing,” he keeps his voice low in case anyone is listening in. I'm sure people are listening in. They always are.

“It looked like you were having a good time when I saw you last.” I crack a grin.

“Oh, that was just the tip of the iceberg. The stuff we did. I fucked all of them.” He makes a sweeping gesture across the table with his hand. “Came in half of them.”

My stomach instantly twists in disgust, thinking about what would have happened to Alexis had I left her behind. John definitely would have fucked her. She would have just been one of them. Faceless. Nameless.

“Sounds like a blast,” I try to hide the dryness from my tone.

“It was.” He lounges back. “I think I filled my sex quota for the month.”

“I'm happy for you.”

“Nah, that's bullshit.” He slaps the table, guffawing as if he just made some big joke. “A man can never have enough sex.”

“No, he can't.”

“What about you? How did it go with the one you took home?”

“It was fine,” I sigh.

“You don't sound like it was fine.” Concern fills his face.

“It was. I've just had a long day is all.” I draw my hand to my brow as the flash from someone's camera blinds me momentarily.

John nods towards the street. “Welcome to Hollywood, the place where you can't escape the spotlight.”

I hate it here already, I think though I dare not say it. That's just me being bitter about everything that's gone wrong so far. I haven't even really given this place a chance. Just two days. So many more to go. Things will change. I have a long time for them to.

“So what all did you do last night?” John wiggles in his seat.

“What do you think we did?” I try to be nonchalant about it, not wanting to give away too much. If he thinks we didn't have sex, I'll never hear the end of it. This was his gift to me, after all.

“Did you fuck her raw? Make her leave all bow-legged?”

Again a sickening feeling takes over me. It bothers me that he's talking about Alexis in such a way. But it bothers me more that it's affecting me so much. I shouldn't care, but I do. Not only do I care, but I'm worried about her. Worried about what will happen to her tonight.

“It was so good, I think I'll have her again.” I trace the rim of my glass with my fingertip, considering my own words. My night is blown anyway. There will be no date with Marie Overton, and if I don't have company, then I'm just going to think about both women all night, which definitely won't be fun.

“That good, huh?” He nods, satisfied with my answer.

“Yeah, that good,” I lie, wondering what in the hell is wrong with me.

PEPPER

James isn't going to be pleased with me. I still cheaped out on the dresses, only picking up two more at fifty bucks a pop. They're nicer than the one I wore last night, but I'm sure they're not up to his standards. If he bitches about them, I'll just counter with the fact that he didn't give me much money, and a girl still needs to eat.

I sit on the bus, watching the buildings and streets and people pass by through the window. I'm happy that I got paid, but I'm still worried about tonight. Will the same thing happen? Will I flake out and end up being late and screw myself out of the job?

Part of me thinks I can make the money I have left stretch until I can find another job, but I know that's not realistic. Besides, I need to keep focused on my goals—my dreams. Minimum wage won't get me there.

I can do this. Last night proved that I can. Even if Brodie and I didn't have sex, I still showed up. That means I'm dedicated to this.

Brodie. He lied to me. Lied about his name. What else did he lie about?

It doesn't really matter. None of this matters except building a better life for myself. There will be other men, other liars.

I try to forget about Brodie, mentally preparing myself for the night ahead as I continue to stare out the window blankly. We pull up to a bus stop, and people begin to board. Two women sit across from me, their hands both full of shopping bags. Tourists.

“I'm absolutely exhausted,” one tells the other with a sigh.

“Me too, but it was totally worth it,” the other replies.

“I can't believe we saw Dmitri Strife today,” the first one squeals.

“Me neither. I had heard he was in town working on a new film, but I never in a million years thought we'd run into him.”

“Run into him is a bit of a stretch.”

“You know what I mean,” she sighs. “He's so dreamy.”

“I never would have known that was him if you hadn't pointed him out.”

“I'm good at spotting famous people. They all try to hide, but they can't hide from me.”

They both laugh.

“So, did the pictures you took of him turn out okay?”

The name Dmitri peaks my interest though I don't think much of it until I attach the last name to the first and my mind places a face with the name. The second that it does, it feels like my heart stops beating. Dmitri. Dmitri Strife. Green eyes. Slicked back dirty blonde hair. Classic five o'clock shadow. Tattoos. Mega super stupidly-rich rock star, model, actor...with his own clothing line and fragrance and...Holy fucking shit.

“Can I see the pictures?” I turn to the girls, completely unabashed.

For a moment, they look at me like two deer caught in the headlights of a semi. Then they reanimate, smiling politely as the one with the camera flips through the pictures.

“Sure,” she responds,  turning the camera screen to face me so that I can see the picture she took of Dmitri Strife.

He's sitting outside on a patio with another man, a glass of amber liquid in his hand. Dark sunglasses obscure his eyes, but there's no mistaking the likeliness.

My hands start to tremble as instant recognition hits me, and I silently mouth the words
oh my God
. I feel like I'm about to faint, my heart is beating so rapidly.

I fucked things up with Dmitri Strife.

***

I've never felt like this before, this strange numbness mixed with excitement. I push myself against the window and gaze down at my lap, replaying the night before over and over again in my head. Had I known who Dmitri was at the time, I'd like to think I would have done things differently.

This confirms that going the escort route wasn't as bad of an idea as I keep telling myself. If James gets these types of high-profile clients, then I may be able to pursue my dream of being in show business after all. It's still a stretch, but at least I have a better opportunity to make connections than I'd have just going to casting calls. I'm not opposed to fucking my way to the top. Too bad I couldn't start with Dmitri.

I practically skip from the bus stop to my apartment, feeling stupidly giddy. All of that time last night at the Chateau Silverbridge spent sulking about not being able to meet anyone famous, and I was with one of the most famous men in the world. I feel like such an idiot for not recognizing him, but seeing him in person was far different than watching him on television or looking at a magazine spread. He was every bit as nice as everyone makes him out to be. I always thought that was just an act. No one can be that flawless all the time.

When I shove my key into the door, I realize that it's unlocked. That means my roommate is home.

I throw open the door, planning to retreat directly back to my room until I see some guy sitting on the edge of her futon eating my leftovers. My roommate is passed out next to him, and there's another guy asleep on the floor with a needle beside him. Damn junkies, all of them. My life may be shit, but at least it's not that bad yet.

For the briefest of moments, I think about saying something to Mr. Douche Bag who is eating my food, but the way he's looking at me suggests that if he stops eating, he'll probably start hitting on me, so I don't bother. I let out an exasperated sigh as I step over the guy on the floor and give my roommate a scornful look as I pass her before taking my bags into my room and closing and locking the door.

In the span of a few short minutes, my good mood is completely ruined. This is my reality, and I hate it so much. Hate this life. If only I had been a better daughter, maybe my parents wouldn't have kicked me out. I'm not sure what else I could have done, though. I tried my hardest to be perfect, did everything they asked me to. Nothing could have prevented what happened.

I sit on the pile of clothes that make up my bed, cradling my face in my hands. The scent of mold and marijuana is everywhere. After a few minutes of trying to calm myself down, I stand and take my bags to the closet, hoping to keep the smell out of my new dresses. As soon as I can afford to, I'm getting out of here. That will be my first priority after paying for college and books.

There's a knock on my bedroom door, and it doesn't take a genius to figure out it's the guy from the living room wanting to come in and hit on me. I swear, Claire doesn't discriminate against who she brings home. These guys probably make the worst client at James' establishment seem like a prize.

“Fuck off.” I slam the door to the closet, venting my frustration.

“Oh, come on baby, let me in. I just want to talk,” his voice is slurred from the drugs.

“Sure you do,” I mutter under my breath, rolling my eyes.

He jiggles the door handle a few times, and I instantly start scanning the room for a weapon. Anything I can use to fend him off. Depending on how persistent he is, I only have seconds before the lock gives and he makes his way inside. This apartment complex is practically made of cardboard and duct tape. Everything breaks with the slightest amount of effort.

I pick up one of the shoes I wore last night and hold it with the heel facing out. Then I stand in front of the door, shifting my weight and trying not to let my anxiety boil over into a panic attack. In truth, I probably won't be able to fight him off, but I'm sure as hell going to try.

There comes a point when you just need to give up. That's what I've always told myself. But I came here to start a new life, and that new life shouldn't include giving myself to any guy who thinks he can force himself on me just because he's stronger.

My eyes are glued to the doorknob as I watch it twist and turn.

“Let me in,” he pleads, but I don't respond.

Miraculously, he gives up with a huff, and my chest floods with relief though I don't put down the shoe. Disaster averted, but for how long? Probably not long if I plan on staying here, which I don't.

Part of me wishes I could talk to Claire and tell her not to bring these guys here, but she's an argumentative bitch, and I'm fairly certain she values herself less than I do. I wouldn't be surprised if she's already slept with both guys. That's probably why this prick feels entitled to me too.

I sit in my room for what feels like hours waiting for Clair and her other male companion to wake up and leave. It's hard to concentrate on anything else when I'm so worried about my safety. I wanted to take a nap before tonight since I really don't have anything else to do, but the last thing I want is to be caught off guard. Waking up with a man on top of you is a scary thing. It takes a moment for your mind to process what's going on, and it instantly reverts to terror.

I hug my knees and rock back and forth, praying to every God I've ever heard of for a better life, that things will eventually be okay, that this isn't destined to be my forever fate. I don't know how long I'll survive if it is. Even I have a breaking point.

***

Sometime in the middle of the afternoon, I hear the front door open and close though I don't dare leave my room to check and see if it's someone coming or going. Claire and her friend wake up, but it's not until right before it's time for me to start getting ready for work. I listen to their voices as I slip on one of the dresses I bought. It's yellow with a pleated bodice, cap sleeves, and a swing skirt. Adorable and wholesome-looking. I hope the client will like it as much as I do. I match it with a pair of white heels and then take a deep breath before heading to the bathroom.

Thankfully, horny douchebag is gone. I pay no mind to Claire and her friend, who are passing a joint between them, and close myself off in the bathroom to fix my hair into a curly updo. Then I put on my makeup, giving myself a smoky eye and a ruby red lip. By the time I'm done, I look the perfect mixture of cute and sexy.

I spray myself liberally with perfume, hoping it will hide the pot smell that's slowly making its rounds through the house. Then I take long strides to gather my things and head out the door.

“Hey, Pepper,” Claire calls to me.

I can't tell if she's greeting me or trying to get my attention, but I choose to ignore her. Talking to her isn't anywhere near as important as getting to work on time, and I know that if I stop, it will take her forever to say whatever she has to say. She speaks so freakin' slowly when she's high. And she's always high. It's annoying as shit.

This time I make the bus. I take it down to James' office since that's where I'm supposed to pick up my assignment. The whole way there, I wonder who tonight's client will be.

I'm still a little on edge as I walk through the door to James' office, holding my head high and taking confident strides to his desk. He looks up from his computer, his eyes landing on my face first, then scanning down the front of my dress. He scowls, and I feel an instant tightness in my chest.

“What in the hell is that?” He picks up a pen to point at my dress.

I wrap my hands around the bottom of the skirt, holding it out and examining it for a stain or a run or some other issue. Unable to find anything wrong, I glance back up at him. “It's a dress?”

“It's hideous.” He shakes his head, pushing himself back from his desk. “You can't wear that.”

“But this is what I bought.” I place a hand on my hip. What in the hell did he expect me to get?

“You can't see the client like that. I won't allow you to fuck this up.” He walks past me to a wardrobe in the corner of the room and pulls it open. Inside is a row of dresses. Just a glimpse of the length and style tells me that I was way off the mark with both of the dresses that I picked out.

“Get over here.” He motions to me, and I quickly obey. James glances at my shoes for a moment before shoving his hand into the wardrobe and pulling out a light pink dress. I look at it curiously as he holds it up to me. “This should work.” He hands it to me. “Strip.”

My mouth goes dry from the command though I'm not sure why. At some point, I'm fairly certain he's going to see me naked. Hell, at some point, I'm fairly certain I'll have to sleep with him.

I set the garment down on the chair on the other side of James' desk and reach behind myself to unzip my dress. He returns to his office chair, lounging back to watch me. It makes me feel completely dirty, again reminding me of how seedy this kind of work is.

“Hurry it up. You have to be out of here and on your way to the client's location within the next fifteen minutes.” James rolls his eyes at me in frustration.

I hustle to take my dress off and put the new dress on, being careful not to mess up my hair or makeup. For not even bothering to ask me my size, James couldn't have picked a better fitting dress. It goes on like a glove, sliding down my body, the material hugging me as if I'm wrapped in silk.

It's not until I look in the mirror that I realize how exquisite the dress is. The bodice has a V neckline with cutouts and lace insets. It's sexy but not trashy. A high dollar dress, judging by the material and design. I can't help but wonder how much it cost. I admire myself in the mirror for a few moments, fidgeting with my hair to make sure that it's perfect.