Under the Lights by Dahlia Adler Page B

laugh. He’s so fucking predictable.
    The waitress returns with a flaming shot of I don’t even know what. I stick a twenty in her bra, hold up the glass for her to blow out the flame, and toss it back.
    â€œGood?” she asks, her voice low.
    I hadn’t noticed one way or the other, but it doesn’t stop me from saying, “You tell me.” I pull her down to me and let her taste my tongue, and when I sit back, she looks a little dizzy.
    â€œPretty good,” she blurts out, and even in the dark lighting of the club, I can see her blush.
    Too easy.
    â€œJosh Chester.” The smug way the voice says my name makes my skin crawl, and I watch a tall, skinny, vaguely familiar-looking guy make his way toward me. I have no recollection of who he is, and the drinks I’ve already put away tonight aren’t helping.
    â€œDo I know you?”
    â€œChuck. We met at one of your parties a little while ago.”
    â€œIf you were at one of my parties, shouldn’t I have already known you?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.
    He laughs. Fearless prick. “I’m the guy who works with Joe Perotti. You weren’t so thrilled to see me then. I’m hoping you’ve got better feelings about it now.”
    I’ve always been able to hold my liquor, but suddenly, I feel sick. “And why would I be any more excited to see you now? I didn’t want you or cameras in my face filming my life then, and I don’t want it now.”
    He hands me a small, sealed envelope, which I’m tempted to ignore, but have a feeling I’d be sorryabout. I open it up and see one of my mother’s personal notecards.
Joshua,
it says.
I have locksmiths set to arrive at the Malibu house at 9:00 a.m. You will not be given a copy of the new key unless Chuck returns to me with these papers—signed—tonight. Love, Mother.
    â€œLove?” I mutter aloud. “Really?” I look up at Chuck, wondering if he’s banging her. “What papers?”
    He reaches into a pocket on the inside of his cheap jacket and withdraws a folded-up package that I see is a contract, complete with waiver. This is so, so fucked up. “You’re serving me?” I ask as I flip through.
    Chuck grins, his crooked teeth flashing neon colors in the light of the club. “See it however you like. But sign them.”
    â€œAre you doing my mother?”
    His smile doesn’t falter; he just waits patiently. I decide he probably isn’t. Even my mother would never bang a lowly hired hand.
    â€œI have an agent,” I tell him. “I can’t just sign these without her taking a look.”
    â€œSo call her,” he suggests.
    This is getting exhausting. I love my house, and a reality show would be easy money, and it’d be nice to stop having this guy ambush me every second. Plus, then I could skip that stupid
Wings of Phoenix
audition I have no desire to go to. But Holly would probably chop off my balls, and she’s already my fourth agent. I’m not sure I’ll get a chance at a fifth.
    â€œThere’s no way she’d agree to me signing this without her seeing it,” I say flatly.
    â€œThen don’t call her.”
    â€œYou’ve got really stellar business sense.”
Shit.
What do I do? If I don’t sign on and then I don’t get the movie, Holly’s gonna drop me. “Give me a minute.”
    I hop off my chair and storm out back, which is quieter and decently well hidden. Liam’s clearly a little too busy for me right now, so I call Ally for advice instead.
    She picks up immediately, her voice hushed. “Liam?”
    â€œYour caller ID sucks, Duncan.”
    She exhales slowly. “Sorry, Josh. I didn’t even look. What’s the big emergency? Is Liam okay?”
    â€œHe’s fine, as far as I know.”
If you don’t count that he’s trying to fend off a hot older woman at a private estate, which apparently you