Only the brightest stars, p.1
Only the Brightest Stars, page 1
Table of Contents
Blurb
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Epilogue
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About the Author
By Andrew Grey
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Copyright
Only the Brightest Stars
By Andrew Grey
The problem with being an actor on top of the world is that you have a long way to fall.
Logan Steele is miserable. Hollywood life is dragging him down. Drugs, men, and booze are all too easy. Pulling himself out of his self-destructive spiral, not so much.
Brit Stimple does whatever he can to pay the bills. Right now that means editing porn. But Brit knows he has the talent to make it big, and he gets his break one night when Logan sees him perform on stage.
When Logan arranges for an opportunity for Brit to prove his talent, Brit’s whole life turns around. Brit’s talent shines brightly for all to see, and he brings joy and love to Logan’s life and stability to his out-of-control lifestyle. Unfortunately, not everyone is happy for Logan, and as Brit’s star rises, Logan’s demons marshal forces to try to tear the new lovers apart.
Dedication: To Wallace S. and all my fans.
You make all the work worthwhile.
Chapter 1
“LOGAN!” HIS manager called, his footsteps echoing through the house the pain in the ass had convinced him to buy. “Where the fuck are you?”
Logan Steele sat up with a groan as he turned to the guy sprawled out on the sheets next to him. He tried to remember what the hell had gone on last night, but his mind was a blank. It had happened before, and it would probably happen again. His mouth tasted like death, but he managed to get out of bed and onto his feet. He had just reached the bathroom to get a drink of water when Carlton’s voice drew nearer.
Logan didn’t bother answering. Carlton would find him eventually. He thought about reaching for the half-full Stoli bottle beside the sink, but he got some water instead, rinsed his mouth, took a few painkillers, and brushed his teeth before starting the water for a shower. With any luck, that would make him feel less like he’d been run over by a truck.
He stepped around the tiled wall and into the huge shower before switching the flow to the myriad of jets in the walls and from overhead, pelting himself with hot water. He blocked out everything but the water, wishing it would wash away the dirt that he felt clinging to his very soul. Wait, that wasn’t possible, because he had sacrificed that on the altar of Hollywood career success years ago. There was nothing left on the inside, and no one seemed to give a damn.
Not that they were supposed to. Logan had found out pretty quickly that he could pay people to do just about anything he wanted. He had an assistant who answered his mail and ran his social media. There were people to handle publicity, and he had Carlton to manage his life and schedule his days, making sure he showed up where he was supposed to be on time. He had a person who managed his money and paid his bills. Basically, he didn’t have to do anything he didn’t want to.
But none of them gave a damn about him, a kid from a dinky farming town in western Michigan who had just happened to be in the right place at the right time.
The water switched off. Logan turned and blinked at Carlton.
“You have to be at the television studio in less than an hour.” Carlton tossed him a towel and turned away. “I already sent last night’s diversion on his way.” He shook his head as he stared at his phone.
“Who the fuck is it today?” Logan asked. His head still ached. He wished he could crawl back into bed and sleep for another few hours.
Carlton ignored him. It wasn’t like he hadn’t heard Logan say worse things. “Monica West. Remember her?” He lifted his gaze. Logan groaned and reached for the vodka bottle, but Carlton got to it first. “I see you do.” He held the bottle. “I promised her there would be no repeat of the shit show that was your last appearance, and I mean to keep my promise. No drinking, and for God’s sake, do you think you could make it through a single day without looking like a train wreck?” He left the room, and Logan ground his teeth together, his anger at himself rising.
“Do you think you could not be a giant pain in my ass?” He probably would have fired the guy a dozen times already, except Carlton was the closest thing to a friend that Logan had—which he knew was just as pathetic as the fact that he wanted a drink so fucking bad right now, he could taste it. But he knew he had to be sober and on his best behavior to promote Knockout, the movie he had releasing in less than a week. Somehow he had to find the energy to be charming and witty while he talked about a movie he barely remembered making.
Carlton laughed as Logan wrapped the towel around his waist and returned to the bedroom, where his clothes had been laid out on the bed. Without thinking, Logan dropped the towel and began dressing. “Drink this. It will help you feel better.”
Logan sniffed and downed the glass of purple liquid. “What the hell was that?”
“A protein shake. It will give you something to counteract the booze and whatever else you’ve got in your stomach.” He shook his head while Logan shrugged on his shirt and tucked it in, then pulled on socks and boots. Logan checked himself in the mirror and thought he didn’t look half bad. Carlton shook his head. “I’ve set up an appointment with your personal trainer, Erik, for every day this week. You’ve been putting on weight, and we need to get it off and have you in shirtless shape for when you start shooting again in two weeks. You might want to spend some time in the pool to burn off a little around the middle.” He patted Logan’s belly as though he had a gut.
“There’s nothing the fuck there,” Logan snapped. “I look fine.”
Carlton stepped in front of the mirror. “You do not. You have bags under your eyes, and your skin….” He shook his head. “I’ll get your facialist and have Erik get you in the sauna and steam room to sweat out all the crap. Maybe that will help. Tomorrow you don’t have anything until the afternoon, so you can sleep in, and then we’ll get you whipped back into shape.” Carlton sighed. “I’ll make sure you have a pill you can take when you go to bed to help you get some rest and be ready for a full day. You’re well over thirty, and I don’t care if you’re a man or a woman, young and pretty is what this town goes for.” He looked Logan over and then pulled open one of the dresser drawers, grabbed a bottle, and dabbed a little makeup under Logan’s eyes before smoothing it in. “That’s better.” He stepped back and nodded to himself, then checked the time and got out of the way as Logan strode out of the bedroom and down the plushly carpeted hallway to the stairs. He descended quickly and didn’t pause in the hall before pulling open the front doors and heading down the walk, right into the waiting black stretch limousine.
He sank into the back seat, and Carlton got in as well. The driver closed the door, and a few seconds later they were on their way. The two of them were in their own private area. A partition separated them from the driver. Carlton pressed a button and gave instructions that Logan paid no attention to. He watched out the windows as Bel Air mansions slid past outside. Logan released a deep breath, trying to remember back to before his life had spun so profoundly out of control.
“We’re running slightly late, but with a little luck with traffic, we’ll get there in plenty of time and you can have a few minutes to yourself. Do you remember what you’re going to talk about?” Carlton asked. “The movie, your costars, and how great it was to work with them?”
“The usual load of shit,” Logan retorted.
“No. That would be when they say good things about you. That’s the pile of crap,” Carlton told him flatly. “They were good people and did their best. You were the one who threatened to use your costar as a stunt double and set them on fire. So you say nice things about them because you owe them for keeping their mouths shut.”
Carlton went back to his phone, and Logan once again turned to the window as they glided upward and onto the freeway. Logan continued watching the scenery pass as they made their way into traffic.
“Do you ever wonder what life would be like if you hadn’t gone into this business?” Logan asked. He wasn’t sure if Carlton was listening.
“What life? You were on some farm in Loganville, population just above the Walking Dead. There was nothing there for you or anyone else.” Carlton lowered his phone. “I went back there with you last year after your mother died. I saw the place, remember? There was very little there.” And what little Logan might have had there was gone now. His mother had been his biggest fan and the one person he knew was always in his corner. Now there was no one left. Sure, the town had made a huge deal about him returning and had welcomed him like he was the greatest thing ever, but it felt hollow. They wanted Logan Steele, but no one remembered Wally Padgett—or cared to, for that matter. Wally had lasted a year after he’d left school and made his way to Hollywood. He’d lived on his last few pennies and gone to every audition he could find, and he’d gotten lucky. A bit part on a drama series had turned into a huge deal and gotten him his first movie, which struck low-budget gold. Everything rocketed upward from there—agents, publicity, red carpets, talk shows, the big screen , people screaming and stopping him in the damned bathroom asking for an autograph. His life had been turned on its ear overnight, and he’d been on top of the world.
Until everything changed… or maybe he was the one who changed. Logan wasn’t sure. Maybe he’d never been anything at all and what he’d thought was success had been an illusion. Hollywood was so filled with magic and sets that weren’t real, it was hard to know what was.
“Now there isn’t anything for me anyway,” Logan said softly. He tried to think of the people he’d known then, but Logan had been a theater kid in a high school without a drama department. A gay kid who didn’t fit in no matter where he turned.
Carlton set aside his phone. “What’s gotten into you?” he demanded. “You have a life all of those people can only dream of. One almost anyone would give their teeth for.” He sat back and looked at Logan with eyes that Logan sometimes swore saw everything, and yet other times Carlton was completely blind to the truly important things.
Logan opened the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of Evian. He eyed the bottle of vodka, wishing he could drown himself in the release it offered from all this turmoil in his head. Nothing seemed to help. The best he could do was drown his disappointment in alcohol or sex—both if he could get them. “I’m fine, just thinking about shit is all.” He took a drink of the water and then set the bottle in one of the cup holders.
Carlton frowned and reached into the bottom of his case. “Do you want something to calm you down?”
Yes, yes, yes. Sometimes Logan thought he just couldn’t do this anymore. He held out his hand, and Carlton placed two pills in it. Logan stared at the valium and held them for a few seconds, looking at them like they were his nemesis, but he knew that wasn’t the case. What was wrong? What he was fighting was inside him. Still, if they helped him get through this damned thing….
The limousine pulled to a stop, harder than normal, and the pills went flying. They sailed through the air and landed on the floor. “I’m sorry,” the driver said through the intercom.
“What the hell happened?” Carlton demanded.
“Take it easy,” Logan said, suddenly able to breathe. It was almost like he had taken the damned pills. “We’re fine.”
“An accident happened just in front of us. I was able to avoid it,” the driver reported, and then they slowly made their way forward. The accident looked bad, with three cars, one accordioned badly in the middle. A man stood outside one of the cars, blood running down the side of his face.
“Tell the driver to stop,” Logan said. “Now!” The back seat seemed way too fucking small, and he needed fresh air right the fuck now. The calm from a minute earlier shattered like glass, and the shards were all coming at him like missiles. He was suddenly sixteen again and in the thick of the car accident that had taken away his father.
“Why? The police will handle it, and we have to be at the television studio in half an hour,” Carlton said. “Driver, please continue.”
“Stop now!” Logan said earnestly. He made sure the driver heard, and they pulled off to the side. Logan opened the door and stepped outside into a cacophony of noise and confusion. People were yelling and crying. His hands shook, and he looked up and down the street as people slowly got out of the smashed-up cars. What shocked him was how no one had bothered to stop to help. Cars slowly continued on without anyone paying attention.
“Mr. Steele,” the driver said softly as he came to stand next to him. “You should get back in the car. I’ve called the police and they are on their way.”
A man ran up to him, his brown eyes huge as saucers, jet-black hair so dark it had hints of blue. He was on the edge of panic. “Please help. My mother is in there and I can’t get her out.” The pleading in his eyes touched Logan deeply. The man’s hand shook, and something inside Logan snapped.
“Show me,” he said without thinking and grabbed the driver. “You can help too.”
Logan reached the passenger side of the middle car and looked inside. A woman of about sixty sat behind the wheel, deflated air bags around her.
“Are you all right, ma’am? Can you breathe?” She sighed and nodded. It looked like the entire front of the car had shortened, pinning her in place. “Are you able to move at all? Are you hurt?”
“My head?” she said and turned to look at him. She gasped. “You’re… you’re….”
Logan knew that moment of recognition and nearly backed away, but he also knew what was at stake. He had watched his father slip away from him while they waited for the emergency crew.
“I’m just trying to help.” Logan reached around the steering wheel, found the lever, and pushed it up. The steering wheel moved forward a few inches, and then he pressed it up as far as it would go. “Can you move now?” he asked. “Unbuckle the seat belt…. That’s it. Now, are you hurt? Can you move?” She slowly slid toward him, and he half lifted her out of the car and into his arms before carrying her away from the car. “Are you able to stand?”
She looked up at him with the same eyes as the young man. “Yes, I’m okay. But just think about it—I’m being held by Logan Steele.” Her eyes got a little dreamy, and she flashed a bright smile. She rested her head against his chest, and he gently set her on her feet. She stood and got her balance. “Thank you,” she said, patting his cheek.
“Mom,” the young man said, hugging her fiercely. “You’re okay?”
“You should all move away. I smell gasoline,” Logan’s driver said just as the car Logan had pulled the woman out of burst into flames.
“We need to leave now or we never will,” Carlton said, already tugging Logan back toward the limousine. The driver hurried around as the crowd moved away from the fire. Carlton practically pushed Logan into the limo before he climbed in himself and told the driver to get them out of there.
The limousine began to move away from the scene. It wasn’t until they were moving that Logan began to shake as the adrenaline drained out of him. What the hell had he been thinking? He wasn’t the fucking hero of one of those damned movies he did. Not in real life, and that fucking car had caught fire for real. This hadn’t been a movie set.
“What the hell were you thinking?” Carlton asked. “You could have been hurt, and then what the fuck would have happened? You have to start shooting in two weeks, and if you’d been in that car when it caught fire….” He left the rest of his thought hanging ominously in the air.
Logan did his best to tune him out. They were minutes from the studio, and he needed to get himself into the right frame of mind—and Carlton wasn’t helping.
“Just shut up,” Logan snapped and reached for one of the bottles clinking in the bar. He held the fucking thing like the damned vodka bottle was going to give him the escape and comfort he needed. He was going to go on a live show that would be seen by millions of people, and he needed to be able to prepare himself, but he couldn’t center his mind. He kept seeing his father slipping away next to him, and it felt like he was doing the same thing all over again. In his mind, the line between the here and now blurred with the past. He needed to try to sort it out, and that had to happen in the next few minutes.
“We’re almost there, and you have to be ready…,” Carlton was saying.
Logan turned away, trying to get some control once again and feeling it slipping away. He held up his hand, and finally Carlton stopped. Now only the sound of the tires on the road intruded on the space. He closed his eyes, fighting for control of the turmoil at the worst time possible.
As the car pulled to a stop, he looked out the window. Then the door opened, and Logan got out and strode up to the door being held by a man with a clipboard. He didn’t pause and continued inside, past a number of people who stood out of the way. He did his best to paste on a smile, all the while his head screaming for a drink, anything to take the edge off.
“This way, Mr. Steele,” a stunning Black woman in a red dress said. She gave him a smile, and her bright eyes and posture told him she’d brook no nonsense. She motioned to a dressing room, and he went inside and sat in one of the chairs in front of a set of mirrors. “You’ll go on as the final guest of the show. We want to be able to build up to your appearance.” Again, her voice was solid, and he needed that. “You’re going to do a great job.”
