Hollywood Strip by Shamron Moore

Author:Shamron Moore
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tom Doherty Associates

34

House music pumped in the makeup room as Callie relaxed in a chair. Tyler painted her face in between sporadically dancing. “I love this song!” he cried. He stood still long enough to apply a liberal dose of liquid liner. “Makes me want to dance all night and party my tuchus off.” Callie offered him her flute of bubbly but he declined. “If I drink, I’ll get sloppy and you’ll look like Helen Keller got ahold of you. But I’ll take you up on it when I’m done.”

It was noon on a Monday and they were at Coquette’s Westside studio for the beginning of their five-day shoot. The company pulled out all the stops for their two cover girls—Dom, anything and everything to snack on, assistants at their beck and call (“Are those chocolate-covered strawberries you requested up to par, Callie?” a gofer asked. “If not, I’ll run out and grab something else.”) and whomever they desired for hair and makeup. Tyler, of course, was a no-brainer for Callie, but she wasn’t well acquainted with any hairstylists. At Gabrielle’s suggestion, she chose a Baton Rouge–bred cutie named Tessa. She was amazed with Tessa’s ability to create spectacular waves that put the b in bounce.

“Don’t blink,” Tyler ordered. “Your lashes need to dry. I’m off to piss.” He returned with a grimace covering his boyish face.

“You look like you just sucked off a lemon,” noted Callie.

“There’s a huge, hairy guy wandering around,” he said. “Is he the director who got arrested? The one engaged to the hooker?”

Callie scowled. “Gabby’s not a hooker, Ty. Maybe she fell on hard times in the past, but that doesn’t mean she’s a bad person or we should judge her.”

“Sheesh, skank, calm your pussy before you sweat off your paint. I’m not trying to be nasty—just calling a spade a spade. This town is full of pay-for-play, guys and girls alike. Nothing new here. Gotta do what you gotta do.”

“I’m just amazed she took him back,” sighed Callie.

“Happens all the time. I’ll tell you what it is—bitches love a rocked-out bank account. I don’t care how loaded or famous a guy is—no amount of money could make me stay with someone crazy. I wig out if a guy wants to spank me, let alone beats my ass. You wouldn’t think it to look at me, but this one likes it vanilla. Nice and easy, thank you very much. Throw some rose petals on the bed and I’m happy.”

A sudden rap at the door made Tyler jump. It was Tom with his favorite bichon frise, Bardot, cradled in his arms. “Why, if it isn’t my Layla!” he said.

Callie eyed him coldly. “Hello.”

“Heavens to Betsy, is that thing even real?” Tyler scratched the dog’s head. “She looks like a stuffed animal.”

“Bardot, here, is my baby. She treats me better than any of my own kids,” Tom said. “Thought I’d stop in to say hi. How’s it going, Callie? You nervous?”

“Not really.”

“Good. No reason to be. You’re a regular pro.

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