Contingency Plan (Blackbridge Security 3)

Then again, I don’t have any true friends. It doesn’t happen often when someone grows up in the industry. Everyone wants something. Everyone is either too busy or too self-centered to spend any real amount of time to get to know anyone.

“The party is at Theo’s house. Amber wants to know if you have any blow.”

And there it is, the request.

I get them often, and there was a time when I’d be the first one to offer, but eight months ago, I landed in the hospital from an overdose and my face ended up on the front cover of a half a dozen gossip magazines. Apparently, any celebrity having to get treatment for drug use is a big seller. The daughter of America’s Golden Couple? That was a huge payday for them. Paparazzi have been hounding me ever since, just waiting to catch my next bender on camera.

As much as I’d like to ruin the perfect image of family and dedication my parents have been working toward, that trip to the hospital was the most terrifying thing that ever happened in my life, and I’m not looking for a repeat ever again.

“I don’t have any blow,” I inform her.

“No big deal. Just swing by Brent’s and get some before you come.”

“I’m not—”

“Yeah,” Sasha says, her voice distant because she’s no longer talking to me. “She’s going to grab some on the—”

Her words just stop because she hung up on me, and this is what it’s like to have friends in my life.

I don’t want to go to a party. I don’t want to be in the presence of people who talk about me behind my back, but I also can’t stay here.

I knew the second Flynn showed up. Phillip warned me that it was his last day, so I was watching the security feed on my tablet. On camera, it was easy to see that the man was good-looking. He carried himself like every other security detail person had when they walked into this house.

Seeing him in person? That made me pause.

The way his eyes never darted down the length of my body? That made me lose most of my confidence.

The British lilt to his voice? That nearly had me stumbling over my own two feet.

I recovered quickly, keeping up the ruse of seducing him, but a few minutes is all I could manage. I never anticipated the electrical charge I felt when I touched him. I never expected my body to respond in such a carnal way. I’ve been using my body to seduce men into doing my bidding for a while now. Phillip never crossed the line by touching me, and for the longest time, my ego took a hit because of it. Two months ago, however, I interrupted a video chat, one that revealed his long-term girlfriend, Roni—the woman he used as an excuse to avoid my advances—is actually his boyfriend, Ronald.

I know it’s conceited, but finding out the handsome man was gay made me feel a ton better because I haven’t found a straight man that could resist me yet, and Flynn Coleman is going to be no different.

Eventually, my parents are going to get tired of me running the security details off. The hope is that they just get rid of them completely. I’m thinking of how awesome my life would be without my meddling parents as I creep out of my room and make my way down the stairs. I’m nearly twenty, yet they insist on having someone around to watch my every move. Heaven forbid, I have a life of my own. Who cares that my actions have put a spotlight on them? I know they’re afraid of the public discovering their secrets. It’s nothing bad, but they aren’t as loving and attentive as they like to be portrayed in the media.

Yeah, they donate millions a year to building schools in Africa, and they’re the first to stand in front of a camera and advocate for family values and how every kid deserves the world.

But their own kid? Not so much. I’m no longer the cute and cuddly child with bouncing curls and an innocent gap-toothed grin. I have my own thoughts and opinions. I have the inside scoop on how dismissive they are of me now that I no longer fit the perfect image they want everyone to see.

Long before I started acting out and causing problems, my mom ignored me in favor of child actors who could advance her career. When she married Charles when I was eleven, the transition from mother to obligatory roommate had already begun. Of course, she played nice, showing her new man that she was a dedicated mother, but it didn’t take long for her dismissive attitude to shine through. Charles, the man most envision as the perfect father on the long-running show Papa Knows Best, a remake of another show from decades ago, seemed ecstatic to have a daughter. It was literally days before he was walking into a room and acting as if I didn’t exist. He insisted I have his last name but couldn’t be bothered to acknowledge me at the breakfast table.