Steal(Seaside Pictures Book 3)
by Rachel Van Dyken
ZANE WAS BACK. Thank God.
His memory. His snarky weird-ass attitude and love for all things sugary and sticky.
At least that problem had solved itself.
And now I was back in Seaside, where Hollywood single rockstars and actors go to die—also known as the place where every single one of my clients end up in love, married, or with kids.
My gut twisted.
I twirled the stick between my hands over the fire. I was exhausted.
I love my job.
I love my job.
I love my job.
I freaking hated my job.
I was thirty, and I wanted to retire.
I was an agent, partially because I was good at it, partially because when my boy band broke up, I didn’t really have a choice. I needed a purpose, and it was easy to go into the business side of things.
I had an ear for talent.
I loved managing musicians.
I loathed actors.
I wanted to strangle them with my bare hands, give them a little shake, then take them for a long drowning swim in the ocean.
“You look like hell.” Lincoln sat down next to me and sighed. “And you’re burning your marshmallow.”
Zane shot me an evil stare from across the fire, I held up my hands in surrender. “I wasn’t paying attention.”
“She coming?” Linc whispered.
“Hell if I know.”
I let the sound of laughter float around me. It was nice, the laughter, seeing Zane dance around the fire with his girlfriend. Out of all of my clients — I loved him the most.
I wasn’t supposed to pick favorites.
Our clients were our children — God knew they acted like them most of the time, but Zane had always been different.
More of a brother than a client.
And watching him grow up in the industry had been a pleasure, a privilege.
But as if the universe needed to remind me of the current hell I was residing in, the sound of a car door slamming jolted me out of my happy place.
And Angelica Greene marched toward me, her tiny hands clenched into fists, her face one of beautiful fury.
Yeah.
We weren’t supposed to pick favorites.
And we sure as hell weren’t supposed to sleep with them.
Granted, our history was just that — history.
And I was her last hope. The only guy willing to work with her.
Her final shot at stardom.
“Sis,” Linc coughed into his hand while the gang around the fire grew quiet.
Zane shared a horrified look with me. Yeah, I might have forgotten to mention that she was the new client.
Jay held out his hand. “Glad you could make it, Angelica. Guys,” he grabbed her by the shoulders. “Most of you know Linc’s sister. She’s graciously agreed to star in the final movie — as you know, Jessica had to pull out due to her pregnancy.”
Alec made a cross motion over his chest while Demetri looked like he was about five seconds away from throwing her in the fire.
I wasn’t the only one who had history with her.
She was known for burning bridges almost as much as she was known for her drug problem and inability to get over Alec Daniels.
Hell, I was in over my head.
“Hi.” Angelica found her voice and addressed everyone with a haughty expression that had me groaning out loud.
Lincoln winced and then patted the sand. “Angelica, why don’t you sit, I know it was a long drive back from Portland.”
Her eyes penetrated mine with ferocity.
“Well…” Her voice always did remind me of sex, damn it. It was low, controlled, raspy. “I would have gotten here a lot sooner if my jackass of an agent wouldn’t have dropped me off on the side of the road with nothing but a twenty dollar bill and a cell phone.”
Jay glared at me.
I crossed my arms. “Well, maybe your agent wanted you to remember who’s in charge of your career. The same career hanging on by a thread. I’ve heard walks are good for dogs, you know, clean air and all that.”
She gasped in outrage.
Zane shot me a “really man?” look across the fire.
But I was over it.
So over it.
I was over it the day Angelica Greene walked out of my life and into my band mate’s arms.
I was over it then.
And I was over it now.
The only reason I was even involved in it was because she had about just as much shit on me as I did on her — and most days I loved my job.
She kicked sand onto my marshmallow.
I loved my job.
I loved my job.
I loved my job.
I hated Angelica Greene.
Before Heartbreak
New York City — Madison Square Garden
2006
I FIXED THE earpiece and slowly grabbed a stool to sit on while the crowd of ninety percent girls went completely wild, losing their minds, sobbing, screaming my name. The signs were littered with marriage proposals and glitter. Some were decorated with bras while others were flung onto the stage.