I didn’t move from the chair or open my eyes when she came into the room, yet I knew exactly where she was at any given second.
“Well, look who is in the land of the living.”
Everett snorted. “I’m not sure you’d call him alive yet.”
I sighed as I felt Shelby’s hand run gently through my hair. “Oscar, Oscar, Oscar…why do you insist on drinking? You know you can’t handle liquor well.”
I frowned at her and peered through one eye. “I’m British, Shelby. We are known for how well we handle our drink. Legendary.”
She snickered, her fingers tenderly massaging my aching head. “Liam, the British are also known for their suave, smooth leading men. But let’s face it, you really don’t live up to either category, do you?”
I huffed in annoyance. She was right. No matter how much effort the studio and Lily put into my appearance, I would never be a legendary leading man. I was far too immature. And I was a cheap drunk.
“Put a sock in it, woman. I’m in no mood for your crap.”
“How many whiskeys did you have?”
I flicked my hand dismissively. “A bunch.”
Shelby moved away and I heard her open the cabinet. I watched from under my eyelashes as she held up the bottle, which wasn’t missing much of the golden liquid inside. “Two, maybe three, Liam? Light ones at that, no doubt. Hardly enough to put most Brits in this shape the next day. Tsk, tsk. You are letting your people down.”
“Piss off. I was shattered from being on the job all day—days, in fact—so it hit me hard. And, I’m a bloody good actor.”
She chuckled as she started unloading her bags. “I never said you weren’t good, Oscar. I said you weren’t smooth. Or suave.”
“What are you on about? Why don’t you call my leading ladies and get their opinion on that?”
“Good idea. Shall I start with Carly? Or maybe Gillian?”
Everett guffawed beside me, and I gave up. Both those women, even though we were friends, knew I was a wanker. Great to work with, but not dependable.
“Fine. Sod off, both of you. Maybe I’m not smooth, and maybe I can’t handle my liquor. But I’m cuter than you, Ev.” I pointed at Shelby. “And I’m way taller than you.” Then I sniffed haughtily. “And the birds dig my accent.”
Shelby hummed. “I’ll give you that, Britboy.”
“Shelby, I’m hungry.”
“What do you want to eat?”
I sighed with want. “I’d give you fifty grand if you had a double-double In-N-Out burger over there. A hundred grand if there was a chocolate shake and fries to go with it.”
“Is that a fact?”
“’Tis.”
“Pay up.”
The thump of a bag in front of me had me opening my eyes, and I grinned widely. She knew me well.
“Brilliant.”
I tore into the bag, shoving fries in my gob as I jammed the straw into the milkshake, desperate for a taste of the cold, creamy liquid.
Shelby handed Everett his lunch and sat across from me with her own burger.
“Ta.” I winked at her. “You’re smashing, love.”
Her eyes were warm and filled with mirth. “There you go with the accent again, Oscar.”
“Piece of cake.” I grinned. “Gotcha right where I want you.”
She shook her head. “That you do, Liam. That you do.”ShelbyLiam relaxed on the sofa in the den, his eyes closed. From across the room, Everett and I were going over Liam’s calendar at the desk. His upcoming shooting schedule, interviews, travel arrangements, photo shoots—the never-ending train that was the life of Liam Wright.
I grinned as I took in Liam’s relaxed posture. The sunlight streamed in the window, highlighting his white-blond hair and the scruff on his chin. He was tall—his legs draped over the small sofa in the den as he slumbered. In repose, he looked younger than his twenty-eight years, his skin smooth, his expression peaceful. One hand rested on the floor, his long fingers curled into a loose fist while the other was draped across his strong chest. His broad shoulders and muscular build looked good on the screen. He wore a suit like a second skin—elegant, graceful, and masculine all at the same time. His smile was blinding, and when you added in his extraordinary green eyes that seemed to glow in his face plus his killer looks, the screen loved him. He was sought after by studios, well known around town as a flirt and a playboy, yet respected and liked. He was never an asshole and had a reputation for bringing his A game to every set and treating those around him, be they a makeup artist or a co-star, with the same attitude. He always had a friendly word for everyone and was never anything but professional.
At home, he was the same way. Cheerful and friendly. Sweet. He reminded me of a puppy—wanting to please, happy to make someone smile. He thought of himself as a wanker, but the truth was he was simply Liam. Carefree and content to be looked after. There was no malice in him, only a boyish charm that covered his hidden insecurities.