False Lines (Blurred Lines Volume 7)

  False Lines (Blurred Lines Vol. 7)

  Copyright © 2013 Breena Wilde

  Breena Wilde Books

  Kindle Edition

  This book in its entirety is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. Thank you for respecting the hard word of this author.

  All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means, now known or hereafter invented, including xerography, photocopying and recording, or in any information storage or retrieval system, is forbidden without the written consent of the author, Breena Wilde, P.O. Box 1408 Bountiful, UT 84011.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the creation of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Cover design by: Steven Novak

  Interior design by: Novel Ninjutsu

  Edited by: Clean Leaf Editing

  This volume is dedicated to everyone who’s ever lost someone they love and to those who know that they’ll never really leave us. They’re forever in our hearts.

  One John disappeared, shattering her already fragile heart. The other wants to pick up the pieces.

  Will Cadence be able to find happiness, or is it back to hooking full time?

  I wake to an empty bed. Stretch. Open my eyes to the light shining in through the window. And that makes me sad, because I’m remembering my brother. There won’t be any more sunrises for him. No more morning coffee. No more living. He’s dead. I buried him.

  And it fucking hurts.

  Guilt eats me up, swallows me like a hungry monster. I know that’s how his addiction treated him. He had no control. All he had was his next fix. His addiction was an unforgiving disease. I can’t help but wonder if there was something I could’ve done differently, a choice I should’ve made that would’ve kept him alive. I can’t think of one. He wanted to be fucked up. It suppressed his pain, took away the anger and hate he felt for my parents. He blamed them for his shitty life. He chose not to live. The only one who suffered was him. And me.

  Fuck! I pull the pillow over my head, blocking out the sun, wishing I could block out the pain.

  He fucked up his life all by himself. Sure, I could blame my parents, too. They weren’t great. In fact, they were the opposite of great. But at some point I have to take responsibility for my life. I choose to live, to survive. Up until a couple of months ago that meant fucking men for money. Somehow I hadn’t allowed that part of my life to take over. My brother needed to do that too. Only he never did. I can’t blame him. And I know I shouldn’t blame myself either.

  I pull John’s pillow to my body. It smells like his soap and aftershave and I inhale deeply, wishing he were here, wishing his mouth would cover mine and our tongues would entwine as well as our bodies. Then I could forget for a while. I could be engulfed in pleasure instead of the fucking all-consuming pain.

  John is back at work. Filming is proceeding as scheduled. Scarlett is doing all her own scenes. It turns out she didn’t like the way everyone raved about the scene John and I did together. She believes she can do better. Highly unlikely, but I’m happy she’s decided to give it a shot. Shining in front of the cameras isn’t my thing. It’s John’s. And I’m cool with that. He’s good at it.

  I’m meeting him on set today after I stop in at the office. The other partners in Zane’s production company were skeptical of me and my role in the company at first, but we’ve come to an understanding. They’ve seen I have a knack for it. This job is exciting—much more exciting than prostitution.

  Three days after Zane left I went to the police station and picked up the money and all of the paperwork regarding Zane’s house, his production company, and my brother’s information. The officer who returned everything to me seemed shocked at the turnaround time.

  I’d taken the million-dollar check to the bank and opened an account, then was informed it would be two weeks before I could access it because they needed to make sure the check cleared.

  Cruze says I can stay with him as long as I like. It’s been fun living in the hotel. Cruze is a good lover. A good man. It’s obvious he has feelings for me.

  I’m still not sure how I feel about him. I mean, I like him, sure. But between my brother dying and Zane leaving, my emotions are all over the place.

  I get up, go to the bathroom, and turn on the water in the shower. After I pee I get in, allowing the hot water to beat against my head and shoulders. It’s relaxing, but it’s when I’m alone like this that thoughts of Zane pull at my heart.

  He’d called me while I was at the gravesite. “We’re meant to be together. Our bodies. Our hearts. Our souls. You know that.”

  Did I?

  The last time we were together fills me up with desire. It makes my pussy wet. I can’t help but groan. I fucking want him. I want him to slide his huge cock inside me. I want to come undone around him. But it isn’t possible. He’s gone. He left and I’m with Cruze now.

  I sense things aren’t right with Cadence. Last night while we fucked her body responded, but her mind was elsewhere. I know she’s just been through a horrible time. Burying a brother can’t be easy. But I get the feeling that isn’t why she wasn’t all there. I tried to ask her but she just kissed me harder. That fucking John Zane is my competition kills me. I want to tell her about all the rumors, all the crazy fucked up shit Zane’s known to do. Before we went to sleep I almost did. But I don’t know that it’ll do any good.

  Growing up my home life wasn’t the greatest, but I got out a lot faster than she did. I started acting. I became famous. The life I live now makes what I went through almost seem like a dream. I try not to think about it because letting my mind go there brings up shit I’d rather not deal with.

  What I have now is great. I fucking worked my ass off to get here. Do I regret fucking the casting director to get my first gig? No. Do I regret screwing over several friends to get a part I wanted? Hell no. It happened when I first started in this business. It’s cutthroat and I’m a fast learner.

  Where I’m at is where I belong. I know that. And I want to tell Cade that I understand, that fucking for money is something I’ve done too, just in a different way. But I can’t. I don’t know why.

  “Mr. Cruze, you’re wanted on the set,” a female stagehand says, knocking on the door to my dressing room.

  “I’ll be right there.”

  I stand, check my reflection one last time, and head out. Today I’m filming two scenes with Scarlett. The first scene is one where we destroy the bad guy after he’s possessed Scarlett’s character. The second is the scene I shot with Cadence, the one where she and I fucked in front of everyone.

  I’ve psyched myself up for it. Over the years I’ve learned the best way to make a love scene work is to create a connection, because no matter how incredible the writing, the setting, or the costume design, if the chemistry between the actors isn’t there, then the movie will flop. Moviegoers can sense it; like a bloodhound on the scent of an escaped convict, they can tell when the actors are faking it.

  When I first came to Hollywood, my agent got me two speaking roles on two different movies—at the same time. I totally felt cool and, while neither movie launched my career, I learned a lot. One movie was a romantic comedy with two high profile actors. Off screen the two of them got along really well. They were obviously friends and even
flirted with each other. As soon as the cameras started to roll, their sexual tension fizzled. It was like watching a train wreck.

  The other film I worked on was a dramatic musical. The actors playing the main characters were also high profile—both married to different people. On set, between takes, they barely spoke. But on screen, when the cameras began to roll… Holy shit! The two of them together were fire and sex and desire. The chemistry was so powerful everyone on set felt it and that raw attraction crossed onto the big screen easily.

  I got brave at the wrap party and asked him how he did it, how he could create so much sexual tension with someone he barely knew outside of work. He’d smiled and given me a priceless piece of advice. He said, “When the cameras are rolling, your love interest is your soul mate. She’s everything to you. Nothing and no one else matters, and I mean no one. Not your spouse, not your girlfriend, not your family. It’s only her. Always and forever. Understand?” I’d nodded and taken that advice to heart.

  And as I walk toward the set and see Scarlett in her sheer robe, nothing and no one else matters. It’s Scarlett. She’s it for me. Always and forever.

  I finish up at the office and head to the set. Cruze’s driver isn’t anything like Lincoln. This guy is chatty and I have no desire to talk to him.

  “I need to get some work done,” I tell him and put up the partition.

  “Yes, ma’am.” He smiles at me in the rearview mirror.

  When the partition is fully up I make myself a drink and suck it down, then lean my head back and try to sleep. It doesn’t come. Instead I think about Zane. He’d been so angry with me after I fucked John in front of the cameras. He’d taken me into his limo and poured hot wax on my nipples and made me come.

  Thinking back on it, I realize that moment was a turning point in our relationship. It was from then on that fucking him became personal.

  The bourbon has warmed my insides and I put a hand on my breast over the red silk shirt I’m wearing.

  I remember the way the wax felt, and pinch. My nipple is instantly hard, and my pussy’s wet. I put my other hand between my legs and imagine Zane slapping my clit. Pleasure and pain. I want both and I want Zane to give them to me.

  The limo stops and the driver raps on the partition.

  “We’re here.”

  I clear my throat. Sit up. “Excellent.”

  He opens my door and I step out. “Thank you,” I say coolly. “I’ll be only an hour or so.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  I feel his eyes on me as I walk in. It’s creepy, but no creepier than the guys I met on the streets of L.A.

  As soon as I open the door, Mindy rushes over.

  “Have you heard from Lincoln?” she asks, batting her thick lashes.

  “No, I haven’t. Sorry.”

  “Shit, I liked him.” She looks heartbroken. Did she and Lincoln go on that date? Did they do more than have coffee? By the look on her face I’m guessing the answer is yes, and I feel bad for her.

  “If I do hear from him, I’ll let you know.” I pat her arm.

  She looks up. “You looking for Mr. Cruze?”

  “Yes, I am.”

  She looks around kind of nervously. “Did you want to get something to eat first? The food today is delicious.”

  “No thanks. If you can just take me to him, that’d be great. I’ll watch and promise to stay out of the way.”

  She coughs, tucks her hands in her jean pockets, and looks away. “Okay. Right this way.”

  Tension starts to build in my stomach. What’s her problem?

  I don’t have to wonder for long. As soon as I see the bedroom set I know why Mindy is uncomfortable. John told me they were filming this scene today. I’d hoped to miss it, but it looks like they’re setting up and just about to get started.

  “Sit here,” she says.

  I do. The chair is a ways back and to the right of a camera. I’m in the dark. Frankly, I’m grateful. John is wearing a towel low on his hips. He’s so fucking good looking it should be a crime. I have a flash of my tongue on his abs before I shake it away.

  Scarlett has on a sheer robe. It isn’t covering up anything. The bra and panties she’s wearing underneath are easily seen. She and Cruze are talking to the director. He seems to be giving Scarlett some kind of direction.

  When he’s finished, Scarlett says, “I know what to do.” She turns away from him and John a moment and I see the terror on her face. Immediately it disappears and she turns back. “John, you better make me look good.”

  He pulls her to him. “I will, Scar. No worries.”

  “Don’t call me that,” she snaps, and then smiles. “It’ll be just like old times.” She smacks him on the ass and then cups it.

  I lean forward, beginning to think I understand Scarlett. She uses her body, her clothes, and her attitude toward others as a way of keeping hidden the frightened little girl she really is. I don’t know whether to feel sorry for her or not.

  John turns to her. His face is soft. He leans down and whispers something in her ear. She looks afraid a second and then visibly relaxes.

  I wonder what he said to her. Does he know about the scared child she’s trying so hard to bury?

  “Places!” Nigel yells.

  A guy moves in front of them. “Scene twenty-one, take two.” He snaps the clapboard and moves away.

  John’s towel is gone, as is Scarlett’s robe. He takes her into his arms and kisses her.

  The tension I’ve been feeling builds. I don’t like watching John kiss someone else. I chose him and he chose me, so seeing him stick his tongue in another woman’s mouth makes me sick.

  Suddenly I’m thinking of Zane and how he must’ve felt watching me.

  Oh my god. I’m awful.

  Watching John do with another woman what he did with me is surreal. It almost doesn’t seem real.

  When John pushes Scarlett down onto the bed, Nigel yells, “Cut.”

  They reposition the cameras for different angles.

  I notice my heart is beating rapidly. When we did the scene together John kissed my inner thighs. He’d tongue fucked me. Would he do the same to Scarlett? I couldn’t help but wonder.

  “Let’s go,” Nigel yells after they set up.

  John kisses Scarlett’s knee. He trails his lips down toward that place between her thighs. Sadly, because I’m directly at John’s back I can’t tell what else he’s doing. But Scarlett moans. Her legs move and she squeezes his head between her knees.

  “Cut.” Nigel walks over. “Keep your legs spread apart, Scarlett. You’re messing with the close up camera.”

  “Fine,” Scarlett responds.

  Nigel grins like a schoolboy as he walks back to his chair. “Let’s go again.”

  Someone behind me says, “He’s going to fuck another one. God, he gets more pussy than anyone I know.”

  I want to turn around and glare, but I can’t. I don’t want anyone to know who I am. And if they do know, I don’t want them to see the expression on my face, because I’m fucking sure I’m devastated and I don’t want to be.

  I obviously have feelings for Zane and I have feelings for Cruze too. I’d gone twenty years without ever getting close to falling in love and now I have all these fucking feelings for two men. Two Johns.

  It’s apparent the Universe has a sense of humor and I’m the butt of her very unfunny joke.

  Mindy brings me over a bottle of water. “I’m sorry you have to be here for this, Cadence,” she says, looking like someone killed her puppy. “If it’s any consolation, you did a much better job.”

  I swallow, grateful for the dark. It makes the lies easier. “It’s no big deal. I get it. They’re acting.”

  She laughs nervously. “Exactly.” She starts to walk away and then turns back. “Did you want to get something to eat?”

  “Actually, yes. I’m starved.” It’s better if I don’t watch anymore.

  Mindy shows me to the catering cart and leaves. I get a plate full
of mixed fruit and a chicken salad. I’m not really hungry so I take tiny bites. The food is really good though. While I eat I decide it’s late enough to call Jessica.

  “What the fuck, Cade? You know I’m still asleep,” she says into the phone.

  I laugh. “Sorry. Just wanted to hear your voice. How are you?”

  I hear her move around and know she’s getting comfortable. “Well, let me fucking tell you…”

  She goes into a long story about her pimp and how he treats her and the other girls like shit and a bunch of other stuff. I only half listen though and feel terrible.

  “…And some guy named Lincoln or Link or something totally kicked his ass—”

  “Wait, what was the guy’s name? Lincoln or Link?”

  “Shit, Cade, I don’t know. I think it was Lincoln.”

  I start to breathe really fast. Was it Zane’s Lincoln? Was Zane a lot closer than I thought he was? Had he stayed in L.A.? I couldn’t help but look around me, at the faces of those sitting at the tables around me. I didn’t see him.

  “Did you see the guy? Was he tall? Did he look like a—”

  “I didn’t see him. I only heard about what happened. Why?” She’d put a piece of gum in her mouth and was snapping it.

  “Nevermind.” I sighed.

  “What’s wrong?” She flipped on the TV. I could hear the clapping from a talk show.

  I thought about telling her. I needed to talk to someone and she was the closest thing I had to family. “What are you doing tonight?” I asked, hoping we could meet for dinner.

  “Vivian is having a party. I’m going. You should come. We’re going to The Play Pen. We’re meeting at seven.”

  I glanced at my watch. It sounded like fun, getting together with my friends. I’d missed them.

  Cruze sat down across from me. He was wearing a black tee shirt. His short hair was mussed in the front.

  “Let me get back to you.”

  “Sure.” She hung up.