“You are famous,” she’d said. “Just not the right kind of famous—or at least not yet. But trust me, you will be.” When Malina’s dark eyes met his, it was just like she’d said: he was in no position to make enemies, much less disagree with people who knew more than him.
And now, after having just finished his set, he was filled with what could only be described as elation. The initial shocked silence when the crowd first recognized him as the thug tied to the Madison scandal had been more than a little disconcerting. But after a shaky start, Tommy found his voice, and it didn’t take long before the crowd forgot who he was and gave him a chance. The enthusiastic applause and screams for an encore when he finished his set proved Malina was right.
Someone handed him a water, someone else a shot of tequila, and the next thing Tommy knew, he was surrounded by the kind of gorgeous models and actresses that had once only populated his dreams. And yet, here they were in real life, telling him how amazing he was, while Malina was swarmed by execs wanting to set up meetings and talk about how working together could be of mutual benefit.
Tiki squeezed inside the circle of models and clutched his arm in a proprietary way—a move that worked to deter some of the models, but not all. Still, he had only himself to blame. Tiki was pretty and nice and eager to please. Problem was, she just wasn’t Layla and never would be.
Luckily, it wasn’t long before Malina saved him by introducing Tiki to an actor rumored to be newly single, before deftly pulling Tommy aside.
“You okay with losing the girl?” she asked.
Tommy shrugged. By the looks of it, Tiki had already moved on.
“Good. You need to be single. Your star will rise quicker if every girl in America thinks she has a shot at you.”
“Just America? Why are we limiting ourselves?”
Malina grinned. “Last I checked, every girl in America wanted to kill you, so we have a bit of a PR crisis on our hands. Nothing I can’t handle, though, as long as you do what I say.”
So far he was fully aligned with whatever she planned. “Have you talked to Ira?” he asked, trying to keep his voice from betraying his nerves. But in his mind, it was Ira’s response that mattered most.
“Not yet. Though my spies tell me he looked pleased.”
Tommy frowned. “Then they’re lying. Ira never looks pleased.”
“Why don’t you ask him yourself, then?”
Tommy turned to find Ira standing just behind him.
“I hate surprises.” Ira’s gaze was flat as he shifted between Malina and Tommy.
“Most people do.” Tommy fought to determine what was really going on behind the immaculate mask, but as usual Ira was impossible to read.
“It’s my night. Been planning it for weeks. And somehow you two manage to pull a fast one.”
Malina started to speak, but Tommy beat her to it. “I just seized an opportunity when it was offered to me. Isn’t that what you would’ve done?” He was tempted to end the sentence with Dad—Isn’t that what you would’ve done, Dad? But if Ira didn’t like the surprise of Tommy replacing his headlining musician, there was no telling how he’d react to that particular bombshell. Besides, Tommy wasn’t quite ready to make the reveal. His career was just starting. He had a long road ahead.
Ira clenched his jaw and stared at the glittering city skylights beyond. “How does it feel to have your dream come true?” he asked, returning his focus to Tommy.
Since he’d arrived in LA, Tommy’s dream had been to hear Ira praise him. Praise him in a way that proved he’d be proud to claim Tommy as his son. But if anything, Ira only seemed annoyed to have lost a small margin of control over his launch. And while Tommy considered it a small victory, it was hardly the stuff of his fantasies.
“I’ll let you know when it happens.” Tommy tossed back a shot of tequila and turned to leave. “Oh, and congrats on your party,” he called over his shoulder, leaving Ira to stare at his retreating form as he made his way across the lawn to where Layla stood, contemplating her own shot of tequila while looking sexy as hell in an off-the-shoulder red dress.
“I hear I have you to thank.” Tommy grinned, though his smile vanished as soon as he took in her blurry, unmistakably tear-stung gaze. “Uh, Malina told me about your meeting,” he added, watching Layla awkwardly dab at her face in an attempt to appear as though everything was fine. “Something tells me that’s not a celebratory drink.” He looked pointedly at the shot glass clutched in her hand.
“Either way, the effect is the same—it helps you forget.”
Tommy squinted and rubbed an uncertain hand over his chin, unsure how to respond. He knew he owed her an apology, but clearly, this was not the best time.
“Mateo and I broke up.” The words seemed to stumble forward in a rush, as though she was desperate to be rid of them, pass the burden to someone else. After a moment of silence, she said, “How come you don’t look even the slightest bit surprised?”
Tommy shrugged. He’d heard some vague rumor about Mateo being seen out and about with Heather Rollins, and while he’d felt bad for Layla, part of him hoped it was true. To her he just said, “You okay?”
She nodded confidently, but Tommy wasn’t buying the act. Layla hated to be pitied. Anyone could see that.
“Happily ever after is for movies and books.” She tilted her chin and forced her gaze to meet his. “In the real world, everything has a beginning, middle, and end. There’s no such thing as forever.”
Tommy regarded her with a skeptical look. “You saying you don’t believe in the big, splashy Hollywood ending?” When their eyes met, Tommy felt a stream of energy pulsating between them. But maybe that was just him. Layla seemed preoccupied and oblivious.