This Is How We Do It // Montell Jordan

I'm late. Not so late that I missed the meal but late enough that when I walk in everyone's going to look up at the asshole. Me. Even for an L.A. party where no one's on time, this is pushing it.

My car whips around the corner leading closer to the hills without losing a hubcap. It's a piece of shit but I can't complain. It gets me from point a to point b, usually. There was that one time I got stranded in Pasadena. That's a cool place so I was fine hanging in old town for the afternoon until Zack came in his equally shitty truck to pick my ass up. We played a round of pool at a bar called Q's and beat it back to our place by midnight. He took me back the next day with a spark plug or something. I have no idea. The guy grew up on a ranch, fixing all the shit with his dad. I don't have those skills. But damn, I miss those days. Now he's practically wifed up with his woman and I'm missing my wingman.

I gun the motor, hoping like hell my clunker makes it up the hill toward Zack and Brianna's place. My former roomie blew right past the starving artist stage of his career when he landed a music video with a pop star. He and Brianna gelled right away and now he's living in her Hollywood hills mansion. If I hadn't seen the entire relationship develop before my own eyes, I would think they're full of shit. Nothing in Hollyweird is real. They don't call it La La land for nothing. But those two are as real as it gets.

By some miracle of God my car makes it to the top of the hill and all the way down Bree's street. I'm sure I'm not allowed to call her Bree but unless Zack has gained the power of ESP like a glittery vampire, my thoughts should be safe. I wouldn't dare call her Bree to her face. Zack might be my friend, but I've never seen someone as protective over a person as he is over Brianna. It's almost like keeping her safe is his job. He's a whipped cream pie. That's something I'll say to his face.

I park my car on the street, not bothering to lock it. Who in their right mind would steal this hunk of shit on a street lined with literal star's homes? And if they did, I could care less. I do actually have insurance, not like more than a few other wannabe actor shitheads I know. If someone stole it, they'd be doing me a favor. In fact...

I sprint back to my car and drop the keys right on the driver's seat. There. Maybe my day will start looking up.

Feeling pretty fucking good about myself now, I stride toward the stairs that lead up to Brianna's place. No matter how long Zack has lived here, I can't bring myself to think of her house as theirs. It's a mini mansion overlooking tinsel town. The windows are full glass and take up the majority of the walls to maximize the view. It's like living in a glass box if you ask me. No thanks.

Brianna would insist her place is just as much Zack's, that she shares her life with him and that includes all the material possessions she has. But I'm no dummy. He's a karate instructor, not a Hollywood hottie. Even though half the town knows his name and he's stalked by the paparazzo wherever he goes, it's all because he's with America's sweetheart. The second they break up he'll be as well-known as Kevin Federline. I've had to tell more people than I can count to google that guy's name. Proof that being attached to a pop star, even having kids with her, won't make you famous for long.

I step up to the door and give myself a pep talk. I shouldn't think so negatively about my buddy's relationship. Just because I'm a jaded asshole doesn't mean his love life is going to crash and burn. He's a nice guy. She's a nice girl. They are so sweet together it gives me a stomachache.

I admit that might be jealousy but I'm also realistic. We live in a town where 6 months is a long-term relationship. Zack has been with Bree for a year. They're about to hit their shelf life.

So much for the pep talk. I'm still dumping on them. I slap my cheeks, both sides, and smile. It's go time. I shove open the door, not locked because it's a party, and step through the portal into another land.

"Party boy has arrived. The games can commence."

The room turns to look at me. No one will ever say I lack confidence. But no one I'm interested in is the living room. This is the bingo brigade; the older crowd of people Brianna knows from wherever. Could be industry people, could be her cleaning crew. You never can tell with this girl.

I stride across the room and into the enormous kitchen built for a chef. No one but Zack cooks here as far as I know, and that's only kale and low carb shit. He's the most boring eater I've ever met. And fuck me, I've had to adopt his lifestyle for the past few months working up for a potential role. The audition for said role is the reason I'm so late.

I scan the kitchen and through the large opening to the sitting area beyond looking for Zack, but don't see him or anyone else in his posse. They must be on the roof deck. That's where I'd be if this was my place. I step onto the back patio and over to the spiral staircase leading to the roof. I catch a glimpse of the pool on the other side of the yard, surprisingly large considering it's a house nestled into the hills. People are swimming and lounging. Out of the corner of my eye I see a girl in a red bikini dive into the deep end. I force myself to focus on the stairs and not the hot chick showing most of her skin. That's not why I'm here.

Instead I climb the stairs two at a time and emerge rooftop to a sea of faces milling about with drinks and noshing on barbeque. I spot Zack standing near a table with...not barbeque. He's got the health food crap spread out. Great. I still have to eat keto and work out four times a day. But this role will be worth it. Could make my career.

"Yo!" I shout as I step onto the roof. I make a b-line to Zack smoother than my clunker. Wonder if anyone's taken it yet?

"Sorry I'm late," I say, clapping Zack on the shoulder while grabbing a carrot stick with my other hand. "Been moving and shaking on the old casting couch." I wink. No, I didn't do the casting agent. That's a myth.

"How'd it go?" Zack smirks. He's probably thinking of all the ways he's going to torture me downstairs in his home gym later.

I shrug. "Pretty fucking good if you ask me." I nosh on another carrot. Damn I wish these were chocolate and caramel coated cookies instead.

"Nice." He nods. Brianna slides right up to him. His arm automatically goes around her waist, pulling her close.

Barf. Their love gives me hives.

"Glad you could make it, Jacob." Brianna smiles, handing me a glass with clear liquid.

"This better be vodka. I don't usually drink it straight but I'm desperate, so I'll take it."

"It's water," she says.

"Water? What, are you trying to kill me?" I put the glass down on the table.

"Dude, she's trying to help you stay fit. That was the deal, right? Help you get in shape for the part, and you'd be less of a..." Zack rubs a hand over his face.

"Say it." I dare him with the stink eye. I know what he was going to say. He wants me to dial down the complaining about everything, and I can't really argue with him. I'm obnoxious. I'm loud. I say the shit everyone's thinking. Until a couple months ago, I gave Zack so much shit over his health crap he almost passed out when I asked him to make me Zack 2.0.

"You're supposed to be less of a shithead, Jake."

I turn at the grating voice coming from behind me. Char saunters up to us from the stairs, dripping wet in the little, teeny, tiny red bikini I saw down by the pool. I look back at Zack rather than let my retina's burn from looking at her.

She's hot. The second I met her a year ago, I knew she'd be the death of me. Long wavy red hair and green eyes that punctured my lungs with their depth. The woman is a goddess. Legs for days, delicate fingers, a sprinkling of freckles across her cheeks. I was a goner. But my mouth got in the way and I said something to piss her off. I don't even remember what it was. Now I look into her eyes and see nothing but fire aimed right at me.

Why does the woman who hates me with her entire soul have to be so fucking drop dead gorgeous? I swear she could be the woman of my dreams...if she didn't hate me so damn much.

"I don't work for State Farm. Don't call me Jake."

"Sure thing, Jakey." Char smirks, her green eyes sparkling with challenge, while popping a cherry tomato in her mouth.

"Jacob." I look away from that mouth.

"So formal." She tilts her head to the side, water dripping from her red locks all over the ground as she scrunches her curls. "I guess that could give you a leg up for the next audition."

I pick up the water I wish was vodka and pound the shit out of it, downing it in three gulps.

"Impressive." She says it with a raised brow before hopping over to the real food. I salivate watching her go, and that's got nothing to do with the burning desire I have for barbeque wings and coleslaw at the other table.

That's all her.

What the fuck is wrong with me? How did this happen? I have a massive boner for this chick. She hates my guts. Has since first sight when she brought a bag of warm clothes from a fancy boutique to Brianna when she and Zack were laying low at my place.

Long fucking story at how that shit went down. All I know is I opened the door and a red-headed hurricane blew in. I lost the ability to speak. I lost my damn appetite. That's never happened to me before.

"Dude." Zack punches me in the arm.

I look at him, finding him rolling his eyes.

"What? I can't look? She's single. I'm single. She's hot. What am I supposed to do, avert my eyes?" I roll them instead, matching Zack's energy before reaching for a kale and cashew salad.

Yum.

Not.

"Just be less obvious. I don't want to have to clean up your blood from the floor when she claws your eyes out." He makes a big show of checking out my plate. "Good choices. You've learned well, my young padawan."

Nerd.

"Blech. I hate this crap so much. You lied. I thought after 30 days it becomes a habit and I wouldn't dread this stuff as much as I do."

"It does become a habit. You're standing over here aren't you. You didn't follow the trail of barbeque drippings." He points toward the holy grail. The good stuff. The food worth dying for. And directly at Char.

I look over just in time to catch her looking at me, a smirk on her face. I'm sure she's listening. I let my gaze drop to her shoulders, smooth and glistening in the sunlight. Further down past her chest, barely covered by the scrap of red fabric. Her waist where I picture my fingers gripping either side. Her hips, her long legs, even her toes. Hot damn this woman makes me want. I'm not hiding it. I'm not pretending I don't think she's hot as fuck. So when my eyes rise to meet hers once again I'm not shocked that they're narrowed at me. That I can read her thoughts instantly.

Asshole.

That's what she's thinking. And honestly, I haven't given her a reason to think otherwise. I'm playing the long game in this town. Be the unaffected, distant motherfucker until my name is in lights. Don't let them break you. Don't let them see you fall. I have to be that guy in all areas of life. In Hollywood, no one likes a softie playing the big roles. So I'm hard. I'm distant. I'm chill.

My phone vibrates in my pocket. I pull it out to see my agent's name on the screen.

"That was fast." I'm shocked but this could be it. My big break. I knew I'd nailed that audition. I slide the notification open to read her congratulations.

But I'm crushed instead.

Hey babe. Heard back from the casting director.

It's a no.

They liked your look but want to go with a bigger name.

Might have a supporting role for you but that won't be confirmed until they start filming in a month.

I'll let you know.

I turn my phone off, dump the kale salad in the trash and march directly to the real food. Fuck it. I grab a handful of wings and start sucking the meat right off the bone.

"Zack, gonna need that vodka asap."

My day is ruined. Might as well ruin my diet. Zack can forget kicking my butt in his gym later, too.

"Let's fucking go, don't have all day." I snap my fingers, feeling drunk with rage. Or depression. Honestly I'm too fucked up right now to know the difference.

Already I'm aware that this moment will be marked. I'll remember this day, this spot on the Earth, for the rest of my life. I feel it in my bones. The second I read that text from my agent, my direction shifted. Question is will it be for the better or for the worse?

"I could have told you they'd go with someone else, but would you listen to me? No, no you wouldn't"

Char's grating voice, no matter how hot she is, answers my question.

Worse. Much, much worse.

I'm thinking about keeping this in Jacob's POV similar to how I wrote Not Another Diva from Zack's. So far in how I'm plotting this out I think it will work. We may get a chapter or two from Char's POV but I'm going to let that happen naturally if it does.

And expect more spice than usual from me in this series. I'm even seriously contemplating some edits on Diva to make Zack less beta and a bit hornier, haha! There may be a bonus scene, too. Maybe to tie some more events from that story into this one. I wrote Diva about 4 years ago without planning on any more in a series but since then I've got 5 more books planned out!

Let's talk music. This playlist is a bit spastic. I've got an odd mix of 80's hits along with some current living room jazz (phrase my daughter uses for it) and Harry Styles. So, yeah. These two are going to be comedy meets hot spice and the playlist feels that way to me.

https://youtu.be/0hiUuL5uTKc

Broken Lullaby is FREE on Amazon for one more day. GO GET IT!!!