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Luke leaned against the painted wood railing and turned his face into the salty breeze. “I know exactly what she is.” A headstrong, smart-mouthed, compassionate, talented, hardworking pain in his ass, and he’d fallen in love with her.
“She’s also about to hit the next level in a business you want nothing to do with. Just winning the Lena Xavier role put all kinds of heat on her. I’m seeing a Dirty Games updraft like you wouldn’t believe, and when filming and promotion start, it will get even crazier. Projects roll in every day. Good projects. She sings, she dances, and she acts. Talent and versatility, wrapped up in the kind of package the camera loves. Her trajectory is straight up. There’s no undoing that, either.”
“And I wouldn’t ask her to. Look, I appreciate your concern”—not really, but he recognized Eddie was trying to look out for her—“but we both know I understand what I’m signing up for. Do I love the Hollywood game? No. It’s a big hustle, as far as I’m concerned. But she wants to play, so we’ll work it out.”
“For the record, you’re one of my favorite people, too.”
“Aw. Now you’re making me blush.”
“You’re also a sarcastic prick,” he replied, “but I have confidence Quinn can serve the sarcasm right back to you in spades. You two could be good for each other, but don’t let the fact that she came to you as a client delude you into thinking you’re in charge. In my experience, relationships
and unilateral decisions don’t mix. Especially not ones that set you back, financially. Paradise Bay has a lot to recommend it, but cost isn’t one of them. Your expenses alone could choke a horse. Can you afford to take this kind of hit, just to avoid some optics that make you uncomfortable?”
The loss dwindled his cash reserve to a stingy level, but he’d manage. “The optics matter.”
“Have you discussed this with her? Or considered what the optics look like to her? I guarantee she’s going to see things differently.”
“I’ll square it with her. Tear up the contract, Eddie. There are a lot of things I’ll accept from Quinn, but money isn’t one of them.”
Chapter Fourteen
Quinn woke slowly, languishing in the hazy space between dream and reality. The dreams were hard to leave—a low voice rolling over like a velvet caress, a big hand fisted in her hair, strong thighs backstopping hers, and the slap of skin on skin so loud, it still echoed in her ears, along with a strangely familiar hum. Just dreams?
Reality beckoned, each trace registering like a separate clue. Carelessly drawn drapes filtered soft light into her mahogany and whitewashed bedroom. Her outflung arm rested over a warm, yet vacant side of the bed. A side she had a fuzzy memory of lying half out of at one point last night, palms braced on the floor and her hair swinging into her face, obscuring her view of the locally loomed rug while strong hands lifted her hips to various angles to ensure her G-spot got a staggering workout. Speaking of workouts, the barest stretch of her sleep-slackened body set off intimate aches in certain well-used muscles.
The low, familiar hum sounded again and roused her out of her floaty state of grace. This time she placed the sound. Her phone vibrated on the nightstand. Somebody kept trying to call her, and the noise had finally drawn her out of sleep. She leaned over and grabbed the phone. Her mom’s number flashed on the screen, along with the time. Six forty-five in the morning here translated to quarter to four, Pacific time. Alarm bells jangled in her brain, blasting away the last vestiges of lassitude.
“Mom. What’s happened?”
“Have you heard from your brother?”
Her stomach clenched. “No.” Belatedly, she checked her texts. It didn’t change her answer. “Why? What does he need?”
“To be located.”
“Located? I don’t understand. He’s at Foundations—”
“Not anymore. They called last night. He checked out. I thought you chose a reputable facility, Quinn. How could they let him leave?”
Her heart sank under the weight of worry and her mother’s censure. “It’s not court-mandated rehab, Mom.” Yet another mistake on her part? Should she have pressed charges against her own brother, and then begged the judge to order him into a program? “It’s a private, voluntary facility and he’s an adult. They can’t hold him against his will.” Her mind scrambled for traction. “Who’d he check out with? Did someone pick them up? Does he have any money?”
“They can’t tell me if he left with anyone, due to patient confidentiality rules. I don’t know if anyone picked him up. Money? No. And he doesn’t have access to any. He ran through his cash years ago. Your father and I have been in no position to replenish his accounts.”
Sad, but there it was. She pressed fingers to her temple and ordered herself to think. “Okay. All right. Don’t panic. I’ll call Eddie in a couple of hours and see what he can do.” The man hadn’t climbed to the upper echelon of sports and entertainment agents without being extremely resourceful, and well-connected. Plus, if Callum was wheeling around Los Angeles without cash, he might put a call in to his former agent. She hoped she could convince Eddie to take the call, just this once.
“That’s a good idea. Eddie knows people…and he knows Callum.” Her mother already sounded calmer. “He might be able to work some magic.”
“I hope.” She slumped against the pillows and worried her lip for a second, uncertain whether to offer the words tangled in her throat. Guilt pushed them up. “I can’t seem to work any magic where he’s concerned. I really thought he’d stick this time if we all stood firm. I should have listened to you. I’m sorry.”
Silence greeted her apology. One heartbeat. Two. She braced herself for the recriminations which would drop like thunderbolts from the higher moral ground upon which her mother stood.
Instead she got a long, weary sigh. “No, Quinn. I’m sorry. Last night when I spoke to the counselor managing your brother’s program, he pointed out that Callum’s request for me to arrange his transfer to Paradise Bay amounted to an attempt to spread responsibility for his failure to complete his program to me. He manipulates me very well because I’m susceptible. I take it personally when he fails, and I feel like a terrible parent. Useless, ineffective. I’m his mother, for God’s sake. I’m supposed to have the magic where my child is concerned, but I don’t. I just don’t. I never did.” Her mom’s voice broke. “But you did, Quinn. I don’t know if it’s because you’re twins, or what, but sometimes I sensed this special connection between you two, so I tried to…”
Ann’s voice broke on a sob, and Quinn rushed to smooth things over. “It’s okay.”
“It’s not okay,” her mother replied, sounding steadier. “What I realized is that I do to you exactly what Callum does to me. I pull you in because I’m desperate to find someone stronger than me to bear the load. It’s horribly unfair to you. You’re not your brother’s keeper.”
“Neither are you. He’s twenty-three, Mom. All grown up. He makes his own choices, and he has to deal with the consequences. All we can do is offer support when he’s ready for real help, but we’re not experts. Sometimes it’s hard to tell where to draw the line between supporting him and enabling him. We might get it wrong on occasion, but you know what? That doesn’t change the underlying fact that Callum is responsible for Callum. I know you’re worried about him. I am, too. But even when we find him, there’s no dragging him back to Foundations if he doesn’t want to go—or anywhere else, for that matter.”
