He peers over at me. “L.A.’s a long way from here. You like it?”
I reach over the bar and grab a bottle of soda from one of the buckets of ice while considering his question. “Yes and no. California itself is beautiful. Vastly different from the East Coast.”
“First thing I want to do when I can ride is take a cross-country trip.”
“Chaser and I did it once. I don’t remember much of it though.”
My fingers slip on the bottle cap and I search for something to open it with. Rock takes it from me, pulling an opener from his pocket and popping the top before handing it back.
“Thanks.”
“Go on.” He circles his fingers in a continue-the-story-gesture. “California.”
“Well, L.A. Hollywood. It’s an ugly business.”
“Sounds like you’re successful, though.”
Am I? And at what cost?
I glance away, uncomfortable talking about my success or lack thereof. “I’m like one, single speck of glitter in a bucketful that gets tossed around every week out there. For every successful big name actor you could name right now, there are probably two thousand struggling to make it.”
“Shitty odds.”
“It brought Chaser into my life, so I can’t complain.”
My soul searching is halted by the front door to the clubhouse slamming open.
Rock jumps off his stool, placing himself between me and the man who storms inside.
Before he gets himself into more trouble, I tap Rock’s shoulder. “It’s okay. I recognize him.”
I wave. “Hi, Bishop. How are you?”
He gives me a quick chin lift. “The old man here?”
“They’re in the chapel.” Shit, what am I supposed to do? Stump’s made it crystal clear I’m not supposed to disturb the men when they’re at the table. Bishop’s from another club, is he even allowed at the table? Lost Kings are there, so maybe? I bite my lip unsure of what to do.
Thankfully, Tally solves the problem for me. He pushes the door open and waves Bishop inside. Rock watches the men carefully until the chapel doors close.
“The Saints’ SAA hang here frequently?” he asks in an almost too casual way.
“Once or twice,” I answer vaguely. For some reason, I have a feeling that information falls under club business I shouldn’t discuss with outsiders. Not even a horny thirteen-year-old who’s a hell of a lot smarter than he looks.
I look him over once more. Maybe that was his purpose for coming today. Chat up Chaser’s old lady and see what information he can bring back to the club?
He catches me studying him and a half-smile tugs at his lips.
Too bad the only stories he’ll have to bring back to his club are about my dead mom and the perils of Hollywood.
Chapter Fifty-Nine
Mallory
Our L.A. bungalow is dark and quiet when we return. Not a reporter in sight.
“Thank fuck,” Chaser mutters as he opens the door.
There’s a script for Shallow End waiting for me but I don’t have the energy to look at it yet.
I press play on the answering machine and Marilyn’s frustrated voice grates my nerves. “Ocean Ave. was picked up! You’ll start filming after New Year’s.” There’s a pause. “I have something else to discuss with you but I’d rather do it in person than over your machine. Call me when you’re back.”
“I only caught the last part, but it sounded ominous,” Chaser says.
“Well, I’m too tired to call her now.” I clap my hands together and let out a happy squee. “The part you missed is that Ocean Ave. got picked up for a full season.”
“That’s awesome.” He hugs me tight and my body perks up from the closeness. “So proud of you.”
Maybe I rub myself against him a little too long. He grasps my hands and pushes me back. For a second we stare at each other. He bites his lip. “I’m gonna go pack a bag for tomorrow.”
I follow him into the bedroom. “I’m going to tell Marilyn I don’t want to renew the contract for Shallow End.”
He quirks an eyebrow. “Yeah?”
“I really hate it.” I kneel on the bed next to the bag he’s packing. “Chaser? Are you sure you still want me?”
He stops moving and stares at me. “Are you out of your damn mind? You’re my girl. You’ll always be my girl, no matter what.” He drops the T-shirt in his hand and clutches my hip. “How could you ever question that?”
“After…”
He tips my head back. “Baby, I can’t keep my damn eyes or hands off you. I’m hanging on by a thread over here.” He runs his