Say You Love Me Read online

  Yeah, that’s what I’ll do. I’ll pay her off.

  “Absolutely not!”

  I flinch because Maggie’s voice shrieks through my speakers. I lower the volume. It’s five o’clock in the morning, and I make a left on Rossmore Boulevard, getting closer to the Hancock Park studio. The tepid morning air rushes through the back windows of my jeep. It’s already seventy degrees. Today’s going to be a scorcher.

  “If money is what she wants, I got plenty of it that I don’t use or need.”

  “That’s just ridiculous, Charlie. So you want to give it away to some lowlife extortionist?”

  “No. I would rather be poor as fuck than lose Angel.” The thought of losing her makes my head hurt, so I massage my temple with my nonsteering hand.

  Maggie sighs sympathetically. “I know you love her. I love her too. But paying off Capelli is not the answer. I’m not going to let you do it.”

  “I don’t know, Mags.”

  “Stop it, Charlie,” she barks. “Everything’s in place. Mita switched planes in New York. Javar was already in town and ready to make first contact.”

  “Make first contact? How?”

  “They’re on the same flight from JFK to LAX, arriving at 7:40 a.m.”

  I squeeze my eyes shut long enough to not lose sight of the road and miss my next turn. “How in the hell did you get her flight information?”

  “Okay so… you’re going to have to not ask so many questions.”

  What the fuck is she talking about? “What are you, Double O Seven?”

  “No. I’m getting the job done. Do you want me to do that, Charlie?” she asks as if speaking to a five-year-old.

  I shift uncomfortably in my seat. “Of course, but…”

  “Good. Listen, I put them together just to make sure Mita would react to Javar the way I had hoped.”

  One of my hands flies off the steering wheel to scratch the back of my neck. All of a sudden, I feel fidgety as hell. “And how did she react?”

  “I made sure she had the worst seat in coach. When she walked through the first-class cabin, Javar was already seated and sipping champagne. I wanted her to feel the difference.”

  “She didn’t buy herself a first-class ticket?”

  Maggie snickers impishly. “She missed her original flight.”

  “And you had something to do with that?”

  “She was held up in Customs.”

  “And you made that happen?”

  “Yes. I did.” She sounds proud of herself.

  “How?” I shake my head. “Never mind.”

  “I wasn’t going to tell you how I did it anyway.”

  I slap my hand back on the steering wheel. “So how did your guy do? Did she take the bait?”

  “Javar sent me a text message with a thumbs-up and a ten.”

  “And that means?” I’m snippy, and I don’t like it.

  “On a scale of one to ten, Mita really liked what she saw.”

  I grunt sarcastically. “This guy sounds full of himself.”

  “Don’t make this difficult, Charlie,” Maggie says.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re being snide, and if you want this to work, then you’re going to have to lose that attitude.”

  I clench my jaw. “Okay. I will.”

  “Good. We discussed the plan yesterday, but there’s one major change.”

  I drive down the street lined by palm trees and pull into the driveway of the 1920s Spanish-style mansion made into a recording studio. Maggie’s plan still makes me nervous as hell. I’ve never had to put my well-being into her hands, and it’s unsettling. “What’s the change?” I barely say.

  “You know Gill Blum, don’t you?”

  “Yeah. He’s working on a project at the studio now.”

  “Since Javar made precontact with Mita, we’re making it look as if he’s working with Gill and not you.”

  I park along the edge of the long driveway, which has been expanded to accommodate ten cars while maintaining a fire lane through the middle.

  “How the hell do you know Gill?”

  “I know a lot of people, Charlie.” Her tone is sarcastic.

  I sigh heavily and rub my face. “I don’t know, Mags. Are you sure this is going to work?”

  “Ha! Do you think I’m just sitting on my hands over here? I’m working for you, Charlie. If I were any other person you hired to fix this situation, would you be asking him that question?”

  I squeeze my eyes shut and then open them. Is this a fucking dream? “What the hell are you, in the first place?”

  “I’m your fixer. And there are only two circumstances in which I will be requiring your input. First, if I ask for it. Second, if you see or feel something isn’t going right, then call me and tell me. That’s it. Understood?”

  Every cell in my body wants to tell little Magnolia to kiss my ass. I’m older than she is! Not only that, but what sort of man lets his younger cousin fix his shit? I rub my eye until it itches. Common sense tells me that Maggie hasn’t been little Magnolia for a long time. She’s tough as nails and shrewd as hell. I heard of Mo&Ma and how just about every agent, producer, and publicist was clamoring to get a meeting with her. She’s at the top of her game, and it’s time I accept that.

  I sigh, releasing resistance. “Understood.”

  “Great. Good.”

  Finally, I notice I’m the first one here. A chill of loneliness passes across my spine, and I shiver. “So where are you?”

  “I’m in Italy with Vince.”

  I jerk my head. “Vince?”

  “Yeah, it’s this thing we’re doing. Working on it, you know?”

  She’s not making sense. Maggie does that intentionally when she doesn’t want to talk about something. She has to go before I can ask her to explain, so we say good-bye and agree to keep our phones near just in case we need to reach each other. As soon as I’m inside, I go into the kitchen and make coffee. I don’t have to worry about breakfast because Lara, the studio operation manager, has arranged catering for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Before hearing that Mita would be joining us, I was pretty excited about today’s schedule. Now I’m bummed as hell.

  Coffee’s ready. I pour myself a cup and take it to the studio. I go right to work, preparing for today’s mega-session. I power the system and play back the portion of the score we worked on yesterday. I listen to it five times and tweak some parts, getting it ready for Jacques’s keen ears.

  “Good morning, Charlie,” Lara says from the doorway.

  I quickly look at the time on the control panel. Shit, I started working two hours ago. Time always flies when I’m working.

  “Morning.”

  “Breakfast is set up in the kitchen.”

  The scent of Lara’s floral perfume flows into my nostrils. Angel doesn’t wear perfume, but if she did, I would probably prefer a slightly toned-down version of whatever Lara has on.

  “Thanks,” I say.

  She pulls her long black hair over her shoulder. “Big day today, huh?”

  I rise to my feet. She looks up at me with dazzled eyes. I’m still nervous about coming face to face with my extorter, but I’m hungry as hell. “Yep. And now I’m ready to eat.”

  She chuckles. “Then go get it. I’m going to unlock the other studios.”

  “See you later, then,” I say.

  She winks and moves on.

  * * *

  I hurry to the gourmet kitchen. The scents of bacon, pancakes, and eggs compete for my attention. Two people in identical red T-shirts with white aprons are putting the finishing touches on the burners under the chafing dishes. The guy rushes out as soon as he sees me, and the girl stops what she’s doing.

  “Hungry?” she asks. She’s probably in her early twenties.

  I glance again at the stack of pancakes and rub my belly. “Yeah, I’m starving.”

  “Well…”

  I look at her. Her skin turns red, and her smile broadens as she gives me
an unsought briefing on each available food item, including what’s gluten free, organic, and the different types of syrups made from fresh berries. I thank her when she’s done and grab a plate.

  “This looks like a really cool place to work,” she says.

  I press my lips into a hard line as I use the tongs to put three blueberry pancakes on my plate.

  “I’m an actress.” She chuckles nervously. “Like every other person in LA, right?”

  I serve myself a healthy portion of scrambled eggs and nod. “Yeah.” Fucking LA. Just about everyone you meet has an angle.

  “Doesn’t Jacques Blanchard own this studio?”

  I serve myself two slices of bacon. “Yep.”

  “Well then, you should give me a tour.”

  Her tone has changed, so I look over at her. She has taken off her apron, and all I see are the nipples of her fake tits poking through her very thin T-shirt. My eyes veer up to her suggestive smile. I always find myself in these sorts of situations. I must be sending out some kind of vibe that says, Hit on me because I want to fuck you.

  “He’s not a tour guide, babycakes.” Monroe walks in and takes a plate off the top of the stack.

  I shake my head, surprised to see her although I’m glad she’s here. “You’re early.”

  “Indeed I am.” She narrows an eye at the girl. “And just in time, I see. Someone was this close to offering you a blow job.”

  The girl turns redder than before, balls up her apron, and scurries toward the exit. She walks right into Lara and a woman in a white chef’s coat who looks as if she runs the entire catering operation. The guy who was in the kitchen with the girl when I first walked in is behind them.

  “Oh, you found him,” Lara says to Monroe.

  Monroe pats my shoulder briskly. “Yep, here he is.”

  “You didn’t tell me you had a new assistant,” Lara says, addressing me.

  I clear my throat. “Just for today.”

  Lara eyes Monroe questioningly. “All right, then.” She returns to her conversation with the caterer about lunch and dinner. The girl who hit on me puts her apron back on. The head caterer tells her to bring in more selections of juices.

  She darts out of the kitchen, avoiding eye contact.

  Monroe snickers. “Too bad you’re not still in your pussy-collecting phase. She would’ve definitely scored today,” she whispers.

  I snort and roll my eyes. “I couldn’t say. She’s not my type.”

  “That’s right. You were into exotic butterflies.” She flutters her arms like they’re wings.

  I laugh, and after fixing our plates, we walk out the tall French doors and sit at one of the round tables under the glass-enclosed patio.

  “So why are you pretending to be my assistant?”

  Monroe pauses before putting a forkful of scrambled eggs into her mouth. “Maggie called me last night. I’m the hot threat.”

  I feel completely confused.

  “You don’t know what that is?” she asks.

  “Are you going to make me guess?”

  “I should, but I’m not. I’m Mita’s competition.” She eats the eggs.

  I tilt my head as I try to make sense out of what she just said. Suddenly, I get it. “Oh, you’re the fox in the chicken coop.”

  Monroe swallows. “That’s one way to look at it. If this Mita woman feels she has competition, she’s going to try harder to land her guy.”

  I nod thoughtfully. I have to admit, I wanted Monroe here to keep Mita off my ass, not to push her on Javar Les’s dick. I want to call Maggie and chastise her for not updating me about Monroe, but what’s the use? If I want this to go away, then it’s time for me to fully accept that Maggie’s running the show.

  “Right. So have you ever met Javar Les?” I ask.

  Monroe’s gaze dances around my face as she holds onto a smirk. “Are you jealous, Charlie?”

  “What?” I’m shocked that she would assume that. “I may be doubtful of this guy’s persuasive powers. But jealous? No way.”

  Monroe studies me for a moment. “Um-hum. Well, let’s just say when he arrives, you will be the richest guy in the house but not the hottest. Granted, you’re smoking hot, but Javar is a volcano!”

  I can tell Monroe is enjoying this, so I decide to no longer engage. I nod coolly. “Whatever it takes, then.”

  “He certainly has what it takes.”

  I stop myself from rolling my eyes. “Are you and Maggie business partners again?”

  Monroe’s merry mood changes. “No. And I still need you to get me in front of Ship Gorman.”

  “You know he’s married, right?”

  She shrugs. “So what? I’m not going to fuck him. I just want to convince him.”

  “Convince him of what?”

  “That he and I should work together.”

  “And how are you planning on doing that?”

  Monroe winks.

  “So that does mean you are going to fuck him?”

  She groans and waves her head. “Does everyone suspect that a girl who wants to be a superstar is ready to offer up her pussy or a blow job to get there?”

  “Well, you just saw what happened in the kitchen.”

  “I’m not her. I’m fucking Monroe Blanco, best-selling author and Emmy Award winner. I’m a fucking winner.” She points her fork at me. “Remember that.”

  I can’t help but laugh. She prattles on about the acting school she’s been attending in West Hollywood. It’s the number-one school in the world. At this point, I’m scarfing down my pancakes because I’m aware that Mita and Javar Les’s flight has already landed and they should be here soon. But who will get here first?

  Monroe goes back for more fruit and eggs. I’ve piled my plate high enough for at least three servings, although my appetite is not as big as it was. I place my fork on my plate and take my napkin off my lap. It’s time for me to get back into the studio. “Well…”

  “Hello, love,” a voice says from behind. It’s a guy with a British accent.

  Monroe’s eyes light up because she sees him first. I whip my face around. Goodness fucking gracious…

  Chapter Five

  CHARLIE LORD

  Javar Les strolls over and flops down in a chair that’s very close to Monroe. At least we’re about the same height, around six foot three. His eyes are pale blue. I bet he’s wearing contacts. And his long, messy hair… who does he think he is, me? Shit, I gotta find a new hairdo.

  “Sorry about your woes, mate,” he says.

  I blink at his face, trying to push my thoughts away so I can respond to whatever the hell he just said. Has Angel ever met him? Suddenly, I’m glad Mita’s here and not in London. I don’t want this guy anywhere near my fiancée.

  “What’s that again?” I ask.

  “Your woes, mate?”

  “Oh. Yeah.” Maggie must’ve filled him in.

  “Listen, she’s on the way. Her driver’s going to text me when he’s cleared traffic. I thought we should meet first, and, uh, you and I are not mates, understand?”

  “Then what are we?”

  “We’re the opposite of mates.”

  I squirm in my seat and clear my thoughts. I fucking notice that when he smiles, his whole face follows suit. Should a guy notice that about another guy?

  “Then we’re enemies. At least, that’s what you want her to think,” I say.

  I glance uncomfortably at Monroe, and she’s grinning so hard that her face might break.

  “Something like that.” Javar suddenly looks down and takes his cell phone out of the pocket of his Bermuda shorts. He sets his eyes on Monroe. “It’s a pleasure seeing you again.” He stands and looks down at me. “We’re on in twenty minutes. Could you show me to my quarters, please?”

  I glance at Monroe again. She looks me in the eye, but it’s like she’s dazed. Also, her skin is blotchy. I think he’s gotten her flustered. I’ve never seen her not confident.

  “Right.” I slowly rise to my f
eet. Monroe shakes herself out of her stupor. “I’ll be back,” I say to her.

  Javar touches Monroe on the shoulder “I’ll see you later?”

  Monroe rips her eyes away from his curious gaze and smashes her lips together. Finally, she shrugs. “We’ll see.”

  I study her and then him. They’ve definitely fucked before. I wonder if Maggie knows it. I partly want to call and ask. Whatever the hell is going on between them could probably jeopardize her whole operation, because if by some small chance they haven’t fucked, they definitely want to.

  I open the door to the bedroom. “It’s this one.”

  “She normally stays here?” Javar asks.

  I stiffen my neck. Suddenly, this guy has a clean American accent. “I thought you were English.”

  He smirks. “I’ll reclaim my accent when this is over.”

  “All right, then. Do you need anything else from me?”

  He takes off his backpack. “Not at the moment.”

  “Good luck.” I turn to leave.

  “Hey, mate,” he says.

  I whirl around. “Yes.”

  “Monroe. She’s something, isn’t she?” He shrugs his forehead.

  I feel my forehead collapse. “What do you mean?”

  He waves a hand. “Never mind. I have to prepare the room.” He points at Mita’s room. “And it’s here, right?”

  “Yes.”

  He points his thumb at the room across from Mita’s. “I’m here?”

  I nod briskly.

  “Right… right.”

  “Okay.” I turn to leave again.

  “Mate.”

  I sigh and face him. “Yes?”

  “Would you tell Monroe…?” He frowns, looking off. “Forget it.”

  I wait a second, just in case Javar changes his mind. He focuses on unzipping his black-leather backpack and rummaging through it. I guess that was it. This time when I leave, he doesn’t stop me.