The Roommate Equation Page 5

  Brenton-Lake is the top talent agency in the country, but we’re never this busy. Well, I haven’t worked here long enough to know for sure. But by the looks of it, we either lost a high-profile or gained one.

  I turn to Willow and shake my head. “No, this is definitely not good.”

  I walk by the reception desk, past women speaking so fast that I can barely understand a word. A group of agents crowds around cubicles, some of them spilling into the hallway that leads straight to Vinnie’s office. A senior agent is standing outside of his doorway.

  I march straight into Vinnie’s office, where I find more agents and secretarial staff perched on couches and seated at his conference table. Vinnie makes a fist, the color fading from his knuckles. He yells into his Bluetooth headset, tugging at his hair that’s pulled into different directions.

  Vinnie steps out from behind his desk to hand a notepad to an agent. He has a slightly crazy look about him, but he’s not entirely disheveled, dressed in a sharp three-piece charcoal suit and black wingtips. A silk tie is loose around his neck, the buttons of his vest open, exposing a white oxford with a coffee stain on it.

  I shove my way through the crowd and wave my hand in front of Vinnie’s face. He glances up from his desk to acknowledge my presence.

  “Ash,” he says, relieved. “About time.”

  Vinnie drops the headset onto his desk, cups my shoulder with a firm hand, and leads me out of his office.

  He shakes his head, staring down at the floor. “We have a problem.”

  Please don’t fire me…

  I’m only a few minutes late.

  We step into a conference room with a large flat-screen television hanging on the wall and a table large enough to seat most of our employees comfortably. I shut the door behind us. Vinnie takes a seat at the head of the table, gesturing for me to sit next to him. My heart hammers against my chest as he stares at me.

  “I hate to ask this,” Vinnie says with a sigh. “But, I need a favor.”

  I blow out a relieved breath.

  At least he's not firing me.

  “What do you need me to do?”

  He rolls his chair closer to me. “Nico Chase is spiraling out of control. His assistant quit. He won’t answer any of my calls. I’m worried about him. He’s holed up in his mansion, probably drinking himself to death. I need you to take a box of scripts over to him and talk some sense into him.”

  “I thought you were letting him go.”

  He rolls his shoulders. “Nico is like a son to me. We’ve been together for a long time, but I’m losing my patience with him. He likes you, says you remind him of his sister.”

  Of course, the chunky girl reminds the hot movie star of his sister. Yeah, go figure. When people look at me, they say, She has a pretty face, which in Los Angeles translates to She’s pretty for a fat girl.

  “Why is everyone going nuts? It’s not because of Nico Chase.”

  He shakes his head. “Hailey Rayne is threatening to leave. We also have a shot with Carter Max. He’s taking meetings with every agent in the city this week, and we’re one of them.”

  Vinnie pushes up his sleeve and glances at his watch. “I have to jump on a call. Walk with me.”

  After I accompany Vinnie back to his office and set the box of scripts onto my desk, it occurs to me that I don’t have a car. Shit. I often run errands for Vinnie throughout the day, but I wasn’t thinking when Sloan insisted I carpool with them.

  Now, what am I supposed to do?

  Mr. Control-freak drove us to work. Dylan would never let me borrow his two hundred-thousand-dollar Maserati. He used to tell me that I’m the worst driver on the planet.

  Dammit. And damn him.

  I clutch my cell phone in my hand and groan as I scroll down to Dylan’s name. What choice do I have but to call him? I promised myself I would never use his number.

  I take a deep breath and blow it out as I tap Dylan’s name on my screen, hoping he takes my call.

  Please don’t act like an asshole, Dylan.

  I can’t afford to lose this job.

  Chapter Nine

  Dylan

  I lean against the wall in the Date Crashers training room and watch Sloan teach our new Crashers. With the sudden spike in business, we’re hiring new Crashers almost daily to help break up our customers’ dates.

  A few months ago, a major Hollywood starlet used our app to save herself from a bad date. She documented the entire night on her Instagram and Snapchat accounts and tagged us, which shot our user numbers through the roof. Now, our customers get a kick out of sharing their bad dates. Hey, I’m not complaining. All of the free press saves us a shit ton of money on advertising—more profits for us.

  Some people say that Sloan and I are assholes for creating an anti-dating app, while others love getting help with a bad date. Not everyone has the moves or the nerve to leave someone in a crowded restaurant. And in some ways, Date Crashers makes the dreadful process of dating somewhat bearable.

  “You’re supposed to be a distraught pregnant woman who found out her husband is cheating on her,” Sloan says to one of the female Crashers. “And you call yourself an actress?”

  “I am,” the brunette croaks.

  “Then, act like it,” Sloan growls. “You need to convince a stranger to bail on the date. Try it again. From the top.”

  Most of our Crashers are aspiring actors who moved to Los Angeles, hoping for their big break. At one point, Sloan wanted Ash to come work for us, but I immediately shot down the idea. I told him it was best if we keep family and friends out of our business. Truthfully, I couldn’t handle seeing Ash regularly.

  My cell phone vibrates, buzzing against my thigh. I fish it from my pocket and sigh as Ash’s picture appears on my screen. Her brown hair is curled at the ends and hung over her right shoulder. She’s sticking out her tongue in a playful way, her plump lips red from her cherry gloss.

  Why is she calling me?

  I should let it go to voicemail. If she needs something, she will call Sloan. Except he’s in the middle of a hardcore training session and won’t be available for a few hours.

  She hasn’t called me since we broke up.

  That was five years ago.

  So, this must be important.

  I raise the phone to my ear. “What’s wrong?”

  “Hello to you, too, sunshine.” She blows air into the speaker. “How did you know something is wrong?”

  “Because I know you, Ash. I’m the last person on earth you would call in an emergency, so you must be in trouble.”

  “No, it’s nothing like that. I need a ride. Sloan bullied me into carpooling with you. Now, I can’t run errands for my boss.”

  “What does that have to do with me?”

  “I need a ride to Nico Chase’s house.”

  “Get an Uber.”

  She groans into the phone. “I don’t have enough money for luxuries.”

  “Uber isn’t a luxury.”

  “It is for me, smart ass. So, can I get a ride, or what? I’d like to keep my job. Broke, homeless, and jobless all in one week isn’t a good look. And since I’m too poor to develop a drinking or drug addiction to cope with my life, I need a ride.”

  “Please.”

  “Huh?” Ash sounds confused.

  “Say please.”

  I love taunting her.

  She groans. “Are you joking?”

  “Afraid not. I want to hear you say it.”

  “Dylan, will you please give me a ride to Nico Chase’s house, so I don’t get fired?”

  “See that wasn’t so hard.”

  “When are you coming?”

  I chuckle. “Never thought I’d hear you say that again.”

  “Dylan,” she grunts. “Please. Get your ass over here before Vinnie loses his shit.”

  “Is that any way to talk to someone you need help from?”

  “Whatever,” she huffs. “Dylan, will you please bring your stubborn ass over to my off
ice? Pretty please. With a cherry on top. For fucks fucking sake.”

  I laugh. “Much better.”

  “Stop being a jerk, Dylan. I’ll meet you in front of my building in five minutes. The box of scripts I have to carry is heavy as shit. Don’t make me wait.”

  She ends the call before I can get in another word.

  This should be fun.

  “Sloan, I have to run out for a little while.”

  His eyebrows rise. “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah. Ash needs a ride to Nico Chase’s house.”

  He nods.

  “Did you say Nico Chase?” A cute redhead looks over at me, wide-eyed.

  Nico Chase was one of the hottest stars in the world before his last few movies bombed at the box office. He’s been on the news a lot lately for his public drunkenness, among other scandals that have destroyed his reputation. My curiosity about Nico is part of the reason I agreed to chauffeur Ash around Beverly Hills.

  With a stupid smile plastered on my face, I ignore the redhead’s question as I exit the training room, headed for the parking garage.

  Five minutes later, Ash dumps a banker box filled with scripts into my back seat and then slides into the passenger seat.

  “Thanks,” she says with a smile. “I thought you were going to leave me hanging.”

  “Ash, let it go already. It was one time.”

  She turns her head away from me and sighs.

  Did I royally fuck up with her in the past? Hell, yeah. Ash came to me when she was vulnerable and needed me most, and I acted like the biggest dick.

  “You’re here now,” she says, leaning her head back. “Do you know where Nico lives?”

  “Yeah. His house is on all the star maps.”

  I shift into gear and then stop when I notice Ash isn’t wearing a seatbelt. Instinctively, I reach across the car, grab the belt, and tug it over her chest.

  “Jesus, Dylan. If you want to cop a feel, there are more discrete ways to do it.”

  I click the buckle into place, sliding my fingers up the fabric as I give it one final tug. Tiny bumps dot her arms as my fingers lightly graze her breast. I didn’t do it on purpose, but now that she’s put the thought into my head, I should act on it.

  “Sorry,” I say with a wink that earns me a snarl from Ash.

  I pull onto the street, clutching the steering wheel.

  Ash snorts. “You want to touch my tits. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you looking at them.”

  “I love your tits,” I admit without hesitation.

  She laughs even louder. “For a nerd, you were always so forward.”

  “Only with you,” I counter.

  “Is that the real reason you started Date Crashers?” More wicked laughter. “Because you were too afraid to talk to women and needed someone to save your ass.”

  “I don’t have trouble with women.”

  “No, you probably don’t. I bet every woman in the city wants to fuck you now that you’re rich.”

  “Stop being a brat, or I’ll pull over this car and spank you.”

  She snaps her head in my direction, rubbing her glossy lips together. “You would like that, wouldn’t you?”

  Fuck, yeah. I would love to bend Ash over the hood and give her ass a good spanking. We used to have so much fun together. So much fun that I got carried away one night and ruined everything.

  Keeping my eyes on the road, I turn up the radio, desperate to end this conversation.

  Ash snickers. “That’s it, huh? Why you’re so mean to me all the time.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You still want to fuck me. Don’t you?”

  I never stopped wanting her, not even for a second. Ash was always my biggest weakness.

  “Ash, c’mon. Stop.”

  She gives me a satisfied smile and crosses her arms beneath her breasts, pushing them up in the process. Since when did her shirts get so fucking tight? I swear she’s wearing this top to torture me.

  “I thought Sloan sent you money for new clothes.”

  Ash scoffs. “I sent the check back weeks ago.”

  “Sloan needs you to come with us to a business meeting next week.” She gives me a confused look and I add, “We’re meeting with the owners of Exact Match. We need you to keep one of the wives company while we talk business.”

  She raises an eyebrow. “And what if I say no?”

  “This is important, Ash. I’ll make you an appointment with my shopper at Nordstrom.”

  Ash growls. “No, thank you. I can buy my own clothes.”

  “You need a shirt that fits,” I point out, glancing over at her. “And by the looks of it, you grew out of that bra a long time ago.”

  She clicks her tongue. “I can’t decide who’s more annoying, you or Sloan.”

  “Tell me I’m wrong.”

  She rolls her eyes and then peeks down at her shirt.

  “I’m right. Admit it.”

  “Why are we talking about my boobs? This is dumb. And you’re an idiot.”

  “You’ve had the same bra for the last decade.”

  “How would you know?”

  I cock my head at her. “You don’t remember that night?”

  She presses her lips together.

  “You were wearing that bra the night you sucked my cock for the first time.”

  “Dylan,” she whispers, and blush creeps up to her cheeks.

  “You came to my dorm room, dressed in that bra and the matching lace panties beneath a long winter coat. It was so fucking hot. You dropped the coat on my floor and got on your knees in front of me.”

  “Oh, my God, Dylan.” She turns away from me and takes a deep breath. “Don’t continue that story.”

  I’m already semi-hard thinking about that night. If I had to guess, her panties are soaked through by now.

  I pull up in front of the wrought iron gates that span the length of Nico Chase’s property.

  “You have to hit the button.” Ash nods at the metal box to my left as if it wasn’t common sense.

  I do as she instructs, and a dull hum floats through the speaker.

  A deep male voice groans, “What do you want?”

  Ash takes off her seatbelt and climbs over the center console, now positioned over me. “Nico, it’s Ash. I have scripts for you. Open up.”

  A brief pause. “Ash?”

  “Vinnie’s assistant.”

  “The one with the big ass or the small tits?”

  I want to punch him through the speaker, but Ash plays it off with laughter.

  Ash plays it off with laughter. “The former. But seeing as how you told Vinnie I remind you of your sister, don't you think that’s a bit inappropriate to talk about my ass?”

  Even with a movie star, Ash is still bold and unafraid to speak her mind. Nico doesn’t respond, but a few seconds later, the gates slowly open, and I drive onto the property.

  “Is my ass that big?”

  I shake my head. “It’s perfect.”

  “Whatever.” She sighs. “Not like your opinion counts anymore.”

  “If you didn’t want my opinion, then, why did you ask?”

  “I don’t know,” she groans. “I hate when people say stupid shit about my body.”

  I park in the circular driveway out front of the mansion. A garage is on the left side of the property, with a black Ferrari parked in front of it.

  “Those producers are idiots, Ash. Don’t let them get into your head.” I lean forward to swipe hair behind her ear. “You’re beautiful. And if other people can’t see it, then fuck them.”

  I carry the box to Nico’s front door, and Ash rings the bell. A few seconds later, a disheveled Nico opens the door with a glass of amber liquid in his hand. He tips the snifter to his mouth and opens the door wider to allow us to come inside.

  Nico narrows his eyes at me. “Why do you look familiar?”

  “I was interviewed by KTLA last week.”

  Realization scrolls acros
s his face, and his mouth widens. He points a finger at me. “You’re the Date Crashers guy? Yeah, that’s it. Holy shit.” He shakes my hand. “What a genius fucking idea, man. My friends use it all the time.”

  I match the firmness of his grip and give his hand a shake. “You’re friends with Carrie LeBlanc.”

  He nods. “She’s obsessed with Date Crashers.”

  Carrie is the hottest singer and songwriter in the country. She’s the star who documented her experience with Date Crashers and pretty much blew up our users overnight.

  “Dylan’s ego is already overinflated,” Ash says with laughter in her tone. “Don’t make his head any bigger, or you’ll have to roll him out of your house.”

  Nico snickers and then nudges Ash in the arm with his elbow. “Knew I liked you. You do remind me of my sister. She’s always giving me shit.”

  “Probably because you need someone to whip your butt into shape.”

  We follow Nico into the living room, where he plops down on a large sectional couch and pats the cushion next to him. Ash sinks into the leather and turns her body to Nico.

  She motions to the glass in his hand. “You need to quit. Vinnie’s worried about you.”

  Nico looks at me for help, and I give him a look that says, She’s your problem. Then, his eyes fall back to Ash, over her face, slowly down to her breasts. He licks his lips, and again, I want to beat the shit out of him. A few minutes ago, he upset her by telling her that she has a big ass, and now he’s eyeing her up like he wants to fuck her.

  Yeah, not going to happen.

  She’s mine.

  “It’s going, I guess.” Nico finishes the alcohol in his glass and slams it down on the coffee table. “What scripts did you bring me?”

  I set the box on the table in front of Ash, and she smiles at up me. She’s in a much better mood today, despite how our conversation began.

  When Ash leans forward to sift through the box, Nico peeks down her shirt. I glare at him, two seconds from knocking him out. If he wasn’t a massive star, I wouldn’t think twice. His eyes meet mine for a split second. He winks, and then a devious expression crosses his face as he watches Ash flip through the screenplays.