Fall

“What’s that?”

Drugs. It looked like drugs. Holy hell.

“You tell me.”

I was lying across a couch with three scantily-clad women. Each of them was taking pills.

It looked bad. As in bad enough to make my stomach clench and cause me to rethink the whole breakfast burrito with hot sauce idea after our meeting.

“I don’t do that shit, believe me. I know what it does to a person.” My step-mom being the prime example.

“I know that,” Peter sighed. “And you know that. But the media? They’ve just labeled you America’s newest English bad boy. They’re calling you the new British Invasion. My phone’s ringing off the hook with irate producers who are thinking very intently about not casting you, only because it appears that you’re not serious about your work. Now. Sit.”

Really, given no other choice, I sat this time and moaned into my hands. “What do I do?”

“Stop sleeping around.”

“Be reasonable.” I laughed. “What can I do that won’t make me want to kill myself?”

Seriously, was the guy a monk? I had needs. And so did the girls. Was it my fault that I became available every time they needed a little… attention?

With an evil smile, Peter answered, “Well, I thought you’d never ask.” He pressed a button on his phone. “Yeah, Patty, go ahead and book that trip to Portland for Jaymeson.”

Patty, what kind of name is Patty wait, did he just say…

“Portland?” I repeated, staring in disbelief. “Oregon?”

As in the large city next to Hell, also known as Seaside?

Peter folded his arms across his chest. “Nope.”

I wasn’t sure I wanted to know where he was going with this.

“Seaside, Oregon. You’re going back to Hell.” At least he labeled it correctly. Was it selfish of me to wish for a plane to crash?

Okay, I could deal with this. I was just going to be honest. “No.” I shook my head at least five times. “Hell, no.”

Peter held up his hand and ignored me and my pleas.

“Right. Okay.” The phone clicked. He lifted his head and grinned. “It’s all settled. Pack your bags, Jaymeson.”

“This is a joke right?” I stood and placed my hands on the desk. “You’re trying to scare me?”

“Nope.” Peter sighed heavily. In that moment it was as if I was able to see how stressed he was.

Was I driving him to that sort of behavior? You know the type where you feel like you have no other choice but to torture those you care about in order for them to get their shit together?

Was I now… that guy?

I backed up a step. Impossible.

Alec, lead singer of AD2, He was that guy. Demetri? He’d been hooked on drugs for years! I was the one who didn’t cause drama. Where the hell was my lawyer?

“I don’t have to do it,” I said smugly. Wow, I may as well have stomped my foot and yelled ‘you can’t make me.’

“You don’t. But Daniel Erikson says if you can’t clean up your act, you’re out.”

Don’t panic, don’t show fear. “I’m not sure I understand? Why would he care about my personal life?”

Peter sighed. “Because the movie series is about young star-crossed lovers. It’s about the innocence of a first kiss.”

I grunted and rolled my eyes. Who the hell cared?

“My point exactly,” Peter said.

“What?” I looked up at him.

“When’s the last time you actually kissed a girl before going to the main course.”

Visions of the latest in my long string of conquests came to mind. Legs for miles, dark and sultry with a willing and quite vigorous attitude, painted a smug grin to my lips “I kiss them plenty…”

“Jaymeson…”

Aw, shit, he was using “the voice.” You know, the one parents magically know how to use when they’re trying to make you feel guilty as hell.

“You want this movie series? The one they say’s gonna be bigger than Twilight? You have to clean up the image. I’m not kidding and neither is Daniel. This is your one and only chance. I won’t make you do anything. You’re a twenty-two year old adult. You make the choice.”

I hated it when they pulled the adult card. Freaking hated it.

The clock ticked in the background as if counting down to my doom. With a curse I rose from my seat and held out my hand. “Where’s my damn ticket?”

Chapter Two

Jaymeson

First things first, this isn’t me. I mean, seriously, this is not me. I’m not that guy. You know, the one that just does whatever someone tells him to do in order to get his paycheck? Hell to the no. I don’t do that. I don’t play that game, but when it comes to my career? I take it seriously, so if Peter says I need to go to Antarctica and mate with a penguin, I’d do it. Sure, I’d throw a fit the entire time, but I’d sure as hell do it in order to be able to keep doing what I love.

Making movies isn’t just my bread and butter; its my life, it’s my passion, and anything that stands in the way of that — whether it be a gorgeous girl or even a terrible rep — well, let’s just say I’d do anything to be rid of it. Anything legal, that is. I’m not that crazy. America may be labeling me the newest English bad boy, but I’m scared of my own shadow.

Case in point, last year Demetri had me convinced my room was haunted when he hid a timed night light to turn on at two a.m. every freaking day until I finally figured it out. I was one week away from calling Ghost Hunters.