Bulletproof Read online

  “And what do you do, Morgan? Other than lighting up a karaoke stage, of course.”

  “Oh yes, I’m sure.” She shook her head and looked to the countertop, her laughter dry. “I’m—um, actually looking for a job. I just graduated from UChicago.”

  I grabbed one of the beers and passed it to her, figuring she must be around twenty-two, just two years younger than me. I raised my own beer in a toast to her. “Congratulations.”

  “Thank you.” She clinked bottles with me, and we both took a swig. “So, I have to admit I never expected to see someone like you in a place like this.”

  “Of all the gin joints, in all the towns...” I tipped my head, glad I managed to get a smile with my lame-ass Humphrey Bogart impersonation.

  “I didn’t think you’d be into singing. I thought you were an action man. Mr. Bulletproof. What was your character name in the Dominos series, again?”

  “Clay Brockman.”

  She clicked her fingers. “That’s right. You and Judas Domino made one hell of a team.”

  I chuckled. “You know, Bryant and I hardly got to do any of the really cool stuff. The stunt guys ended up doing most of it.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Don’t shatter the illusion, Mr. Jaxon, please.”

  I laughed. “The truth is, I’m here for my sister’s birthday party.” I pointed toward the private room. “I grew up in a musical house. We were always singing and dancing, so of course Helena chose karaoke.”

  “And you don’t like it?” She took another sip of Corona. I tried not to stare at the gloss of beer on her lips.

  “No, it’s okay. I like it. It’s fun to let it out sometimes, you know.”

  She nodded.

  Oh yeah, she knew. I’d just seen her let it all out.

  I pressed my lips together, knowing I should get back with the beers but not wanting to leave either. Her smirk was captivating, and I wanted to know what it meant.

  “What?” I grinned.

  “I’m just so used to seeing you dodge bullets, and slide over hoods of cars and jump out of buildings. I was trying to picture you dancing and singing on a stage.”

  “Yeah.” I rubbed my hand over my tight, black curls.

  “I can see it, you know.”

  I met her gaze, noticing for the first time how pale her brown eyes were, just a hint of chocolate.

  “I’m sure there’s a role like that with your name on it somewhere.”

  My lips wanted to break into a grin, but I forced them to remain in a steady line. There was no way I could tell her I’d been offered a role like that. My manager had been talking me out of it, to the point where it was in the no-go pile.

  “I’m sure people would freak out. Mr. Bulletproof doing ballet or some shit. It wouldn’t fly. No one would pay to see that.”

  “I don’t know.” She shrugged. “You’ve seen the Step Up movies, right?”

  I nodded, not wanting to admit how much I enjoyed them.

  “Dancing’s cool. It’s sexy. It’s intim—” She shrugged with a grin, her cheeks turning slightly red. “I don’t know.” She took another swig from her bottle, her eyes flicking to me. The tip of her tongue brushed over her lower lip. There was nothing suggestive in the movement at all, but the very idea of that tongue ever touching mine sent shockwaves through my system. I willed my breathing to remain normal. In my line of work, I was surrounded by beautiful women constantly, but none of them had this kind of effect on me. I didn’t know what my problem was. After the Abigail incident, I thought I’d be put off women for life.

  Morgan’s eyes glimmered as her lips pulled into a lopsided smirk.

  So maybe not put off for life then.

  “I’d watch you dance. I think you’d be really great.”

  The urge to call my manager right then and tell her to yank that offer back onto the table was damn compelling. I absentmindedly touched the phone in my pocket.

  “Jax, hurry up, brother.” I glanced over at my older brother, Kip, his head poking out of the karaoke room. Strains of Rihanna’s “We Found Love” filtered out the door. It sounded like my eldest sister, Florence, was giving it a shot...she was good.

  Kip spotted Morgan and shook his head. “Don’t you be thinking ‘bout giving my beer away to a pretty white girl. I will whoop your ass.”

  Morgan’s laughter sprinkled over me. I turned back to the sound, enchanted by it.

  “Thanks for the beer, Mr. Jaxon.” She tipped the bottle my way.

  I wanted to tell her to call me Sean, but what was the point. The chances of ever seeing her again were zero. As much as I wanted to, I couldn’t pursue this. My career was right on the edge. I was still coming out of the public Abigail-break-up firestorm, and I needed to keep a low profile. Rhonda warned me that I wasn’t a big enough name to screw up and get away with it. I had to score myself a lead role in something. I had to move from sidekick to superstar...and this beautiful blonde might have unwittingly given me the answer.

  “It was nice to meet you, Morgan.”

  “Likewise.” Her smile and words were softer this time, showing me yet another dimension. Turning to the bar, I ordered another beer and let her walk back to her friends. Collecting the cold bottles, I headed toward Helena’s birthday, refusing to look over my shoulder. I didn’t need another glance anyway. I would never see her in person again, but Morgan Pritchett would remain in my memory forever.

  CHAPTER ONE

  MORGAN

  2 months later...

  I clung tight to my baby sister, ignoring the approaching departure time. I’d spent four years away from her when I went to UChicago, but this time was different. This time she was leaving me, and I wasn’t sure I was ready to let her go.

  “This is the final boarding call for all passengers flying US Airways 2980 to Tucson, Arizona. Please make your way to Gate 53 immediately.”

  Jody tightened her squeeze and then pulled away from me, blinking at tears as she hugged Ella once more and kissed Cole on the cheek. Finally, she turned to Dad and with a watery smile gave him another long hug. He patted her back the way he always did, never one for long farewells.

  “You take care, Sunshine.”

  “I will, Daddy. I love you.” She kissed his cheek and collected her carry-on.

  I held it together, not wanting her to see me cry. With a brave smile I waved goodbye, my hand not dropping back to my side until she was out of sight.

  “Do you think she’ll be okay?” I rubbed my arms as if I was somehow cold.

  “She’s gonna be fine, Morgan. She’s a big girl now.” Ella wiped at her tears and snuggled against her towering boyfriend.

  “She survived just fine when you were gone, Marshmallow.” Dad hugged me, and I didn’t have the heart to remind him how much I hated his nickname for me. He was feeling it, too.

  I wrapped my arm around his waist, and we walked out of LAX as a foursome. After paying for parking, I watched Ella and Cole walk hand-in-hand toward their car, feeling that slight pang of longing. They were crazy about each other...and so incredibly happy together. She deserved it. They both did...but when was it my turn?

  “You want me to drive?”

  I glanced at my dad and nodded, tossing him the keys. “Sure.”

  Dad pointed the keys at my white Mazda6 sedan and it beeped open. We slammed ourselves inside and basically didn’t talk the entire way home. Dad was a man’s man, kept his cards close to his chest. I’d seen his eyes water a few times, but I’d never seen him actually cry. He was a sweet, gentle guy, but he would take small talk over in-depth conversation any day.

  I didn’t think I was capable of talking about the sunny weather, so I kept my lips sealed and my eyes out the window.

  It took about 40 minutes to drive home to Pasadena. As soon as Dad parked the car, his phone started ringing.

  “Pritchett Electrical, Marshall speaking.” Dad’s wrinkles creased as he listened to the caller. Since turning forty-five last year, I’d started to notice his a
ging skin and grey hairs. His head bobbed. “Uh-huh...yeah... No, I’ve handled problems like that before. It won’t be an issue.” He glanced at his watch. “Well, I can come right now, if you like... Sure. No problem. I’ll just need your address.” He scrambled for a piece of paper in the glove compartment of my car. Unlike his, my car was neat and orderly. He threw me a frown when all he could find were the car manuals and a packet of gum. I rolled my eyes and fished a pen and pad from my purse.

  Dad scribbled down the address and hung up, his smile fading as he looked at me.

  “Sorry, Marshy, I gotta go.”

  “No problem.” I shrugged. It was mid-week; I expected him to be working anyway. It was sweet he took the morning off to say goodbye to Jo-Jo.

  He ran inside and changed into his little company shirt before jumping into his van and zooming away. I lifted my face to the sun, hoping it would warm me, but my spirits were too deflated.

  I slumped up the front steps and closed the glass door behind me. The house was quiet and it felt weird. We’d lived in this place since before I could remember. I was four when Jody came along, and since that day, the house had never been quiet. She filled it with light and sound. Even after Mom left, shattering our idyllic world, Jody still made noise. Admittedly for the first year it was tantrums and drama, but then in the sixth grade she scored the lead in the school musical, and it helped channel all her raging emotion into something constructive.

  Pressing my lips together, I blinked at the rush of tears. My eyes stung as I tried to deny them, trudging up to my room and remembering how I’d braided Jody’s hair and done her makeup each night she performed. Her excitement was contagious and my pride for her bloomed that day...and then kept growing. She wanted the bright lights of Broadway, and if anyone could get them, it’d be her. She had more talent in her pinky toe than I possessed in my entire body. For her, it wasn’t a case of getting in somewhere after high school; it was a case of choosing where she wanted to go. I was secretly relieved she chose The School of Theatre, Film and Television at the University of Arizona where she would focus on Acting and Musical Theatre. It meant she was close. Heck, it wasn’t even that much of a drive. Dad just shelled out for a flight because he couldn’t afford the time off work. Even after twenty years of owning this place, Dad was still paying off the mortgage. I think he had about five years to go. What a relief that would be.

  I plonked onto my desk chair with a heavy sigh.

  Money.

  Man, I needed it. I didn’t want to live here with Dad. I knew I should. Jody was gone, and it would be mean to leave him all by himself. Who would cook him dinner and clean the house? He worked like a Trojan, and the guy needed someone to take care of him...but did it have to be me?

  Being in Chicago was the first time since I was fourteen years old that I hadn’t had to look after anybody else. It had been refreshing. I’d needed it, and now that I’d had it, I wanted it again.

  Opening my laptop, I swished my finger over the pad to bring the screen to life. I could picture myself in a little studio apartment, somewhere not far from here so I could still check in on Dad.

  My mailbox dinged and I scrolled through my new messages, my heart accelerating as I recognized the address for a job I’d applied for. I felt like my interview had gone well. It’d taken over an hour, and I’d answered everything quickly and precisely, showing my competence.

  Dear Miss Pritchett,

  Thank you so much for your interest in our company. We are sorry to inform you that, although a final candidate, we will not be offering you the job.

  Your interview and application were impressive; we are confident that you will find work without a problem.

  Best of luck to you.

  They were confident? They didn’t know jack-shit!

  I covered my face with my hands and screamed. I’d lost count of how many rejection emails and phone calls I’d received. When I’d first started fishing for work, I’d been selective, but three months into it, I’d started applying for any job that vaguely interested me. Now I was applying for anything. I just needed a foot in the door, something to earn me a little cash while I looked for something else. I wasn’t quite ready to fill out an application at a fast food joint yet, but it was getting close.

  I slammed my hands on the desk, ready to push up, stomp down to the kitchen, and devour the box of donuts my dad had brought home last night. My fingers gripped the edge of the wood, stopping me. I couldn’t. I wouldn’t let myself get fat again. Going through high school as a chubster had never been my intention, but food was a comfort, and since I hadn’t been able to dance anymore, chocolate and sex became my best friends. Thankfully I’d given up the chocolate, but I wasn’t willing to let go of the sex, and that only came when I watched my weight.

  Sitting up straight, I smoothed a hand down my stomach and reminded myself I had a date the next night.

  I’d met him at the grocery store. His name was Alec and he seemed nice. I hadn’t told anyone we were going out. I’d kind of agreed to swear off men that night at karaoke, but I hadn’t been able to do it. Why should I? Ella had Cole, Jody had her dreams; they just didn’t get it. I had nothing. The only enjoyable aspect of my life was being taken out to dinner by good-looking guys. I didn’t see that as a crime.

  My index finger brushed over the keypad, taking the arrow to IMDb. I had it saved on my Bookmark Bar. As soon as the page loaded, I typed in Sean Jaxon, my lips curling into a smile as his photo and bio appeared. His blue eyes hit me first, the way they always did. Set into his chocolate skin, they were piercing. His tight curls, cut so short his head was practically shaved, and his perfectly-maintained goatee made my insides curl with desire. I traced his big lips wondering what they’d feel like on my skin.

  Pulling in a breath through my nose, I sat back with a sigh. I’d read his bio a hundred times now. Knew he came from Santa Ana and was born into a poor family. He was the fifth son to Morris and Gloria Jackson. His first movie was Final Score, where he was an extra. Apparently he stood out to the director and ended up getting a speaking part on the film. Since meeting him eight weeks ago, I’d rented every single one of his movies from the DVD store. It was lame. I wasn’t afraid to admit that, but I was kind of obsessed with the actor who’d given me his beer.

  Why? Why had he done that?

  I would never get over my shock at the fact he even noticed me.

  Because of him, I’d actually applied for jobs in the TV and film industry, trawling the Internet for any work in Hollywood. I’d applied for five production assistant roles and been interviewed for three of them. I’d missed out on all counts. It was pretty crushing. The very idea of being on a TV or film set thrilled me. It could mean I’d capture a glimpse of Sean— the scruffy, down-and-out teenager who’d been noticed and turned into Sean Jaxon, supporting actor for Domino Effect.

  I scoffed at my daydream of working alongside him, watching from the sidelines as he acted out a scene. As if that would ever happen.

  I didn’t bother scrolling down to see what he was working on. Last time I checked, he had nothing new on the board. His last movie had been the final in the Domino Series— Domino’s Demise. It was actually kind of sad. He died at the end, in his friend’s arms. Mr. Bulletproof had finally been beaten. I’d cried with Judas Domino as he’d held his bloodied partner in crime. I’d never been so affected by a movie before.

  Hopefully things would pick up for him soon and he’d score a role in something new. According to my Internet stalking, Sean Jaxon had kind of gone underground after a few unfortunate photos with Abigail Tripoli. They’d been a pretty hot couple after Domino Effect came out. She was a big-time star, and she’d helped pull him into the limelight. But then she’d cheated on him, and their big break-up fight was caught on camera. One shot made it look as though he was about to hit her, but on closer inspection, you could see he was just raising his hand in frustration. Unfortunately, closer inspection didn’t count in the media, and Sean Jax
on had been torn to shreds for his behavior.

  I felt sorry for him. The guy I met at karaoke didn’t seem the kind to hurt a girl. Being cheated on and to then have it all go public must have been so humiliating. I leaned toward the screen, gazing into those bright-blue orbs of his. I couldn’t imagine a mean streak existing in those kind eyes.

  My insides turned mushy as I brushed my finger over his face, pretending he was real, when he really wasn’t.

  Well, he was, but not to me.

  “Morgan, you are so pathetic. You have to get over this.” I rolled my eyes and slammed my laptop shut. Checking my watch, I was disappointed to see I still had four hours before I needed to get ready for my date.

  “Shit,” I muttered, my mind wandering to those donuts in the refrigerator. I was about to give in when my phone started tinkling.

  Snatching it up, I checked the number and felt that familiar spike of hope.

  No way. Could it be?

  “Morgan Pritchett speaking.” I kept my voice precise and professional, trying to sound upbeat.

  “Yeah, hi, Lisa Crampton here for Polychrome Studios. I’m first assistant to Travis McKinnon. You interviewed with us several weeks back.”

  “Yes.” I sat up straight, snatching a pen so I’d have something to fidget with. “I was told the position had been filled. I didn’t have enough experience.”

  “You didn’t. I’m not ringing to offer you the job of production assistant.”

  “Okay. So, why are you calling me then?”

  “Our current runner and second assistant to Mr. McKinnon had to leave, and we would like to offer you the job.”

  “Runner.”

  “Yes, runner, gofer. Mr. McKinnon or I ask you for something and you go and get it, basically. You’ll be working for us first and foremost, but if we don’t need you, you’ll help the other runner with her stuff.”

  I pressed my lips together, resisting my sarcastic reply of sounds great.

  Instead, I pushed a smile over my lips and put on my perky voice. “Thank you so much. I would be honored to accept.”