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Steal(Seaside Pictures Book 3)(3)

By:Rachel Van Dyken


“Sorry!” Angelica’s melodic voice interrupted the very vivid daydream I’d just been having: the one where I was chasing her with my car and she tripped, and I accidentally ran over her phone and ruined her life just like she was ruining mine. “Hey, I said I was sorry!” She stopped in front of me.

I didn’t waver.

Didn’t blink.

Just stared her down like the stranger she was.

No longer was she the girl I loved.

The girl I broke up my freaking band for.

The girl I swore I’d marry and move mountains for.

That girl had never existed.

The bitch in front of me?

My client?

My freaking reality.

“I thought you were dead.” I lifted my chin.

With a scowl, she shoved her black Gucci sunglasses away from her eyes and into her hair. “Very funny.”

“I wasn’t joking.”

She sighed, bracing her hips with her hands as the wind whipped her dark hair around her sharp cheekbones. God, the girl needed a cheeseburger. “Can we not do this right now, Will? Or ever?”

“What’s the excuse this time.” I grabbed her by the elbow and hauled her toward the set. “Coke not doing its job anymore?”

She jerked away from me, nearly stumbling onto the ground. “You know I quit that shit.”

I grunted in response. “Next time you’re late, I’m pulling you off the project.”

“You can’t do that.” Her voice fell, weakened, made me doubt the irrational anger I almost always felt whenever I was in her presence. “Will, please this is my last—”

“You’re late!” Jaymeson shouted.

I shoved her in the direction of the makeup trailer. “Get your skinny ass to makeup before I find a replacement, and don’t think I won’t do it, Angelica. God knows I’m the only one stupid enough to take you on as a client, and I am literally your only hope.”

“That’s a lie and you know it.” She scowled.

“I own you,” I whispered it roughly, and her body jerked in response. “Never forget that. Your pathetic career is in my hands. One more mistake, Angelica, and this is gone. All of it.”

“Why?” she choked out, tears filling her eyes. “Why do you hate me so much?”

I exhaled in disbelief. “Hate isn’t a strong enough word for how I feel about the woman I gave everything to — the woman who took it all away from me. Must suck to have the tables turn, to lose all the power you used to have.” I nodded toward the trailer. “Go.”

She started to walk away then stopped, giving me one last glance over her shoulder. “We used to be great.”

“No.” I swallowed. “We used to be a lie.”





HE HATED ME.

I hated me.

The world hated me.

The only person that actually tolerated me was my mom, probably because my paychecks made it possible for her to live the life of a rock star. Plastic surgery, new cars, houses in Mexico — she had it all because of me.

Because of the grueling schedule she’d forced me into when I was two and barely able to talk.

My first word was commercial.

My second was hotdog.

Mainly because that was the commercial I starred in, it was the first big paycheck my mom cashed.

“You’re gonna be famous, baby!” Mama hugged me tight, squeezing me until my lungs almost popped from the force. It was the first hug she’d given me in weeks. The first time she’d smiled in what felt like forever. And even at that age I knew, that if I could just keep her happy — that would be enough.

“Fun!” I giggled. “Fun, mama!”

“Mama will always be fun for you.”

It was a lie.

She was only fun when I did what she said.

I closed my eyes against the sting of tears as my lead-filled legs took me to the makeup trailer.

Luckily, Jaymeson hadn’t stayed to continue his rant, and Will was too pissed to follow me.

My chest clenched.

It wasn’t like I was tardy on purpose. I had trouble sleeping at night so often hid my cell under my bed. I’d relied on the hotel alarm.

And suffered for it.

You love your job. You love your job.

I hated my job.

My shoulders deflated.

But I literally didn’t know how to do anything else and was too afraid to say something to my mom — my drug-using, over-the-top, dramatic mom. The one whose psychotic ways nearly destroyed me a few years ago.

“There you are!” Gem, a makeup artist I’d worked with not long ago pulled me in for a tight hug then pointed to the chair, “So Jay wants us to go pretty light on the makeup today, you okay with that?”

In a daze, I simply nodded.

She’d hugged me.

My body was still in shock.

Buzzing from the contact.