Ch3

Natalie McGee turned on the small television in her West Hollywood apartment and yawned loudly, feeling the effects from the night before. She hadn't gotten home from work until late and found herself tossing and turning for most of the night.

She flipped through the stations and sighed heavily after she discovered almost every single channel was covering the Film Awards, an event she hadn't actually made it to. She knew her father would be disappointed in her, but it couldn't be helped. He didn't like it when she missed these types of things. He preferred to pretend they were one big happy family, but the truth was since her mother had passed away she hadn't been happy at all. It'd been four long years since Caroline McGee had gotten sick and died and Natalie still cried nearly every day. Would she ever be able to get past the devastating loss? There were just some things a girl needed her mother around for, and she was painfully aware she was missing out. Her mother had been the one person in her life who made her feel almost . . . normal.

Of course, she couldn't deny that her father had been good to her, too good according to some people. Natalie was the black sheep of her family, not really fitting in with everyone else. Her older sisters, Naomi and Noelle, had been blessed with their mother's classic good looks and outgoing personality, while she'd inherited her father's thin face, pinched features, and exactly none of his talent. Much to Natalie's dismay, puberty had not been very kind to her. At twenty-years-old, she wasn't exactly what most people would consider pretty. That, along with her awkward way, meant there were not many guys beating down her front door, begging for a date. They'd barely even look in her direction, and when they did it was typically an accident.

Natalie didn't mind so much, she really wasn't interested in men. She'd already been let down once before by a guy she had mistakenly fallen in love with, and she swore she would never be anyone's fool again. Besides, she was too caught up in making a career for herself to worry about dating. Natalie worked in the entertainment industry, and although it wasn't exactly the job she'd always dreamed of, she did find it enjoyable.

Her cell phone rang out on the counter-top next to her and she reached over, looking at the caller I.D.

Dad, she sighed out loud. Guess I'd better get this over with . . .

"Nat," his voice whined when she answered the call. God, how she hated when he called her that!  Her mother had always called her Lee. Why couldn't he do the same? "I missed you last night. I was expecting you to be at the award ceremony with me and your sisters. They flew in all the way from New York City just to attend; you should have been there, too. This was important to me. Your sisters understood that--bless their hearts."

Natalie rolled her small, dark eyes. Good for beautiful, perfect them . . .

"Sorry, Dad. I tried to be there, but I had so much work to do."

"On a Friday night? What kind of television studio keeps its Key Grip late on a Friday night?"

"One of the most popular television shows to hit prime time in years, that's who," Natalie retorted defensively. She didn't need this kind of harassment right now. She had too much on her mind.

"Burden of Proof is keeping you way too busy!" he complained, referring to the television drama series she worked for. "Are you certain they're paying you what you're worth? All you ever seem to do is work anymore, yet you're still living in that tiny apartment of yours. I wish you'd just let me take care of your living expenses and put you up in something decent, for Heaven's sake. It's not like I don't have the money!"

Oh, he had the money alright. Oliver McGee was an entertainment icon. He started out as a theatrical production manager in New York City, working his way toward a very successful television career with of some of the most well-loved shows to ever hit TV underneath his belt, including producing Paradise Cove, which had been wildly famous during its three year run on the air. Her father was always after her to go to work for him, but she didn't want to be handed that kind of job, although she suspected he may have played a role in securing the meager position she had now. All she ever wanted from her father was help getting her acting career off the ground, but that rarely panned out. Her portfolio remained nearly empty, lacking the credits she'd spent day and night striving for.

Ever since she could remember, Natalie had dreamed of becoming a famous actress. Growing up surrounded by some of the most glamorous stars in Hollywood had that type of effect on a young girl. She knew her father had tried several times over the years to give her roles on his television shows with little success. She had worked for him for a few years during her early teens and they had been the happiest years of her life. But since then--nothing. She knew it was the people her father worked with who resisted her involvement, especially as she got older. Natalie was aware she was no natural beauty, and Hollywood never settled for anything less. The trouble with Oliver McGee was that he never had the balls to stand up and fight for her inherited rights as his daughter--something Natalie had a difficult time accepting. Her father had tons of influence, if he would only put his foot down and let everyone know it!

She decided to change the subject and embrace her current role as dutiful daughter. "I saw on television that you won for your work on Deiform. That's wonderful news! Such a high honor, especially since it's your film debut."

As expected, her father forgot all about scolding her and focused once again on himself. "Ah, yes. A high honor, indeed. That's one more trophy I can add to my vast collection," he unconsciously bragged. Deiform had been one of the most anticipated movies of the summer. It was a sci-fi thriller that caused a stir among critics before it had even been released. Oliver had given Natalie a small, one sentence role in the film, but it had predictably ended up on the cutting room floor.

What was wrong with her? Was she really that bad? Meryl Streep was no beauty queen, yet she had managed to become one of the most adored actresses of all time! It just wasn't fair. Natalie McGee had talent, she knew she did. Somehow, she had to prove it.

With or without her father's help . . .

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Some days Brooks Kennedy felt like an old man. He knew he was living hard, that was the lifestyle that came with fame, but he wasn't happy. The drinking, drugs and endless selection of women were not enough to satisfy his needs anymore. He decided it was high time he reevaluated his priorities and try to make sense of his crazy life.

When Brooks arrived home that morning after a long night of partying with Ashton and Juliana, he'd reached his breaking point. He woke up in some random girl's bed with one black eye and his Sperrys nowhere to be found. He fought hard to remember what had happened after he left the club, but he could barely recall how he'd gotten home, let alone the events that'd transpired during the ill-fated evening.

On a whim, he decided to throw on his tennis shoes and jogging shorts and hit Mulholland Drive running. He hated to jog almost as much as he hated being awake in the early morning hours, but he knew he needed some fresh air and time alone to get his head straight. This was one of his favorite spots in L.A. Whenever he had a problem he needed to mull over, he found himself driven to that location. The view overlooking the downtown skyline was spectacular, and he still got a kick out of taking in the iconic Hollywood Sign situated on the side of Mount Lee. He remembered when he was a kid moving from London to California to pursue a career in the entertainment industry, it was the first landmark he'd seen that he recognized. It had the same meaning for him that the Statue of Liberty had for the many immigrants that passed by her flaming torch - promise of a new life. Every time the Hollywood sign came into view, it took him back to those days of innocence, when life had been so simple and full of hope.

But a lot had changed since then. Brooks had worked hard to make a name for himself, and yet what did he have to show for it? A beautiful home in Beverly Hills and a nice ride? So what. Those were just things. He didn't understand why so many people believed money bought happiness. He made a shit-ton of it and just look at him! He wasn't happy. Nowhere near. Sure, his finances provided him a sense of security and freedom, but he felt anything but secure. Or free. In fact, he felt the exact opposite.

His family had all but given up on him. They just couldn't understand his fast-paced lifestyle. Why was he so hung up on partying and women? Hadn't they raised him better than that? He could still hear his father's voice in his head telling him to slow down, to take it all in stride. Ha--that was easier said than done! His family didn't understand the pressure he was under, his drive to succeed.

Success - what was success? By anyone else's standards, Brooks was the epitome of success. The young Brit who had moved across the world to pursue a dream. Who somehow landed a starring role on a successful television series that pushed him into the spotlight with a force he could barely comprehend - even still to this day. How had it all happened? Hell if he knew. The only thing he was aware of now was how he had to jump through hoops to perform for a record label that had him by the balls. He also knew he had a family to support. His parents had selflessly left their jobs and families in London and brought him to L.A. to try and make a career for himself - and they didn't let him forget it. As much as they disapproved of his lifestyle, they had no problem accepting the check he wrote out to them every month.

But the nights of booze, drugs and sex were getting to be too much. He had one image to uphold in the public eye and another image to uphold behind the scenes, and those two identities clashed. He knew he was sinking, but he wasn't sure how to stop.  Brooks felt as if he had sold his soul to the devil, that was the price of fame, and now he was suffocating in the very world he had worked so hard to create. Every night he would go home to his enormous house and look around at the emptiness. There was no life there, no love. What he wouldn't give for a warm body to go home to. Someone who was always there, waiting anxiously for him to return. Someone who loved him and wanted to be with him for who he was and not for what he could give them. Someone who was real, who accepted him and all his faults.

For a long time, he hoped that someone would be Claire Ryan. Beautiful, soft-spoken Claire, who was so warm and generous and kind. But she was with Miller--his very best friend. Claire was definitely off limits. Those two were meant to be together, Brooks realized that now. And he was going to be happy for them.

Even if it killed him . . .

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Ashton Montgomery stared at her reflection in the mirror as she prepared for her brunch date with Martin Berkovich.

Fiery, auburn curls framed porcelain features, making her vibrant green eyes stand out in contrast. She was gloriously tall with a lean, supple body and tight muscles, thanks to the personal fitness trainer who came to her house and kicked her ass six mornings a week. With her chiseled good looks and high standing in the Hollywood hierarchy, Ashton knew she was a force to be reckoned with. She was young, beautiful and strong-willed; characteristics you needed if you were going to survive in "Tinseltown". Everyone knew it was a dog eat dog world, and there was no way she was going to be devoured. If anything, she would be the one taking the first bite.

Ashton knew she was an acquired taste. Not everyone understood the bold and brash attitude she'd been born with. She could thank her mother for that. Growing up in New York City as the only child to a single, workaholic mother, Ashton had learned young how to fend for herself. She also learned how to get what she wanted out of life, and she didn't let anything step in her way.

She was twenty-one years old and sat on top of an empire so big, it made some of the richest  men in Hollywood drool with envy. At age six, she'd been "discovered" while playing in Central Park with her nanny-of-the-moment. Just as she would finally grow comfortable with one live-in babysitter, her mother would find a reason to let them go, forcing Ashton to start all over with the next one. As a result, she'd had a difficult time forming close relationships. True intimacy didn't come easy for her. All of the money in the world could not buy love, something Ashton had been made to learn early on.

Thanks to a few blockbuster movies, her own pre-teen clothing line and some smart investing, Ashton became a household name at a very young age. Six short years ago at age twelve, Forbes ranked her the #23 richest woman in entertainment, well outranking her own Broadway theater-star mother. After that very public media announcement, she decided to take a couple of years off. She stayed out of the spotlight and attempted to live a normal life until finally Oliver McGee offered her a comeback role she could not resist. Ashton loved acting, the idea that she could pretend to be someone else - anyone else - greatly appealed to her. She discovered it was the only thing in her life at the time that gave her joy.

Paradise Cove thrust Ashton back into the limelight, and the chaos of the entertainment industry began all over again. But this time she'd made some friends, and those friends became her family, the family she had been craving for such a long time. Many of the cast members quickly formed a tight bond as a result of the show's intense success, and they still remained close, even several years after Paradise Cove ended.

Eventually, she found she wanted more. In Hollywood, there was a pecking order to how things worked, and Ashton wanted to be the one calling the shots. At age nineteen she acquired her own company, RedHead Productions, and began producing movies. And she loved it. The thrill of being in charge, of putting out respectable products that the world fell in love with fueled the fire. She wanted to prove to everyone that she was smart, a force to be reckoned with--more than just another pretty face.

On the outside, Ashton had it all, but on the inside . . . she was a hot mess. She longed for love and acceptance, what she felt she never received from her mother, now estranged. And for the first time in her life, she felt as if she were falling in love. Truly, madly, deeply in love! It was an amazing feeling - and her mother would be horrified if she knew. She was glad she no longer needed to deal with that little inconvenience.

Martin Berkovich . . . she thought as she prepared for her date.

He wasn't particularly attractive, but he was the male actor of the moment, staring in the indie-film Blaze. It was always less of a headache dating someone who worked in the entertainment industry as they always understood what they were getting into with her. Ashton had learned that the long hours and late night phone calls from needy movie directors didn't always sit well with men.

Just as she wiggled into her fitted, violet-blue Christian Dior dress, her cell phone rang out. She reached over to grab it, knowing immediately it would be Juliana.

"Good morning, amiga," Juliana greeted her with a thick, Spanish accent. "Recovering okay from last night's soirée?"

"Just barely! I have a hangover like you would not believe." Ashton groaned, dramatics high.

"Oh no? I was with you, remember? I'm suffering, too." Juliana paused and Ashton could hear an espresso maker in the background. "You're not still going on your date, are you?" she added, sounding slightly annoyed.

The redhead rolled her yes. "We've already discussed this. I'm not canceling on Martin."

"Suit yourself," her best friend chided. "Just don't do anything stupid."

Ashton only laughed. She knew her friend didn't particularly care for her new relationship.

"We're still going to Lure later, right?" Juliana asked, referring to the exclusive Hollywood nightclub. "That kick-ass DJ will be there tonight, and I don't want to miss it."

"I wouldn't back out on you, you know that."

"You bet your sweet ass you're not backing out on me!" Juliana announced regally. "And make sure you wear something sexy--I plan on dancing all night long!"

Ashton smiled into the phone, looking forward to their plans for the evening. There was never a dull moment when Juliana was around.

And she knew that night would be no different.

Will Brianna Walters keep Brooks' naughty secret safe? Find out in Chapter 4!

If you liked this chapter, please consider showing your support by voting/commenting! And don't forget to sign up for my email list if you want to win free stuff! You can find the link on my profile page or website darlyjamison.com.

Check out the media section for a picture of super sexy bad-boy Brooks Kennedy!

(Chapter 3 approx. 2,965 words)