24. Beverly Hills

CHAPTER 24

BEVERLY HILLS

WEEZER

He's watching me like a hawk, waiting for me to break.We've played this game for years and still he thinks he'll get the better of me. I'm the guy that didn't talk for nine years. I'm not giving him even the smallest satisfaction of acknowledging his game.

"Come on, man!" he finally yells. "You're not seriously planning on sitting here in my home, smoking my fucking weed, and eating my food while you pretend there's nothing going on, are you? Really?"

I take another slice of pizza and lean back in the giant chair. There's a hockey game on and the Cooper family is the only reason I watch any sports at all, other than Steve dragging me to the bars on Sundays during football season. These guys are my friends—my family—but they're also bigger than that. Coop is everywhere, from talk shows to red carpet events, and now little Devin Cooper is on national TV. Steve is on billboards, social media, and podcasts. These can't be the same assholes I roughhoused with as teenagers. Yet, here we are. In a fucking mansion in Hollywood Hills, eating greasy pizza in front of a TV that cost more than I make in three months.

"When does Dev get here?"

"Don't fucking change the damn subject! Who is she? I want names! I want addresses! What does she look like?"

"Also, I paid for the pizza. So, technically, it's not your food." I continue to deflect, hearing the annoyance in his voice. It's rare that Chase doesn't get his way, but he says that's why we're brothers. I keep him grounded. Thankfully, he's not a rich brat, he's just very convincing and puts in the work to get what he wants. "We could rework the second guest bedroom to have a private entrance so he can bring his…what do they call them?"

"Bunnies. Puck bunnies."

"Yeah, he can bring them in through the back." I take a drink of my beer, trying not to laugh at how annoyed he is. Coop picks up the nearest pillow and throws it at me. I'm not surprised by how hard it hits me, but sometimes I forget he could have been a pro pitcher instead of a big shot Hollywood actor.

"What are you laughing at, Bart?"

"Don't call me that, dickhead." I throw the pillow back lazily. "I'm laughing at the thought of one of your little sleepover girls running into Dev's puck bunny in the kitchen at three in the damn morning."

"Fuck no! Wait, shit, it really could happen," He yells, then stops and snickers. "Dude, remember that time that smokin' hot redhead came home with me after an audition and accidentally went into Steve's room instead of mine while Andy was over?"

"Yeah, I'd never heard Andy scream so loud. I have no idea how the three of us survived that roommate situation. I love you guys, but I sure as hell don't miss living with you. Plus, your little brother has that whole cute puppy dog thing down, so if you lose a date in his room, she's not coming back to yours. No chance."

"Oh, whatever, he'd probably take her to breakfast and drive her home after she sees his race car bed." He laughs loudly. Poor kid is in his twenties now and we still don't let up about the race car bed. "Besides, I haven't had a date in—SON OF A BITCH! Stop changing the subject!"

He turns off the TV, tosses the remote to the side, and stands there with one hand on his hip and the other holding a beer. He points the beer bottle at me. "Fuckface! I'm gone like a month and I come back to you being…you! Like old you! Grouchy but fun, whatever, YOU! I want phone numbers. I want pictures! I want ring sizes! Please tell me who she is!"

"Chase, fuck off! I'm trying to watch the damn game! Besides, what if therapy is working, and it has nothing to do with a woman?"

"You're a terrible fuckin' liar!" His eyebrows shoot up. "Wait a fuckin' minute! Is she one of my exes? Are you railing one of my exes and that's why you won't tell me? I mean, I don't mind if you are or whatever but?—"

"You couldn't name the last five women you slept with, let alone pick them out of a lineup." I'm treading on dangerous ground here. If I'm honest, Chase hasn't had a girlfriend in two years, but there's a reason for it. Steve sets him up with women all the time, but it never goes anywhere because Steve isn't the best judge of character. His idea of getting someone back into the dating game is having him fuck anything with a pulse. It failed for me, and it continues to fail for Chase. He takes them to dinner and tells them he had a terrific time, but he's not interested. A few slip through his defenses and come home with him. As an apology for not being ready for a relationship, he always sends them gifts. "To answer your question, no. She's not one of your exes. There are still a handful of women in Los Angeles that haven't gone to bed with you or Steve."

"Yeah right!" The shout comes from the front of the house as the door slams shut. "Wait, who's sleeping with who? Sharing is caring. We discussed this!"

"You're disgusting, Steve," I shout back. Some days I wonder how the hell we're all friends.

"Stevie, get the fuck in here. This prick has a girlfriend and he won't tell me anything! I need backup!"

"She's not…my girlfriend!" I yell back, but I'm not sure if that's true or not. We didn't give each other titles, at least not officially. It seems unnecessary with everything we've done already. I pull my phone out and check for messages—nothing from her. My fingers hover over our text exchange and I wonder if I should message her and ask. Maybe we're friends with benefits. It could be a temporary hookup. Neither of those outcomes is ideal, but I told her I would be okay with whatever she decided. I asked her, but that was in the middle of fucking her brains out. I'm overthinking this, and I'm way too high.

"AH HA! She! A she who fixed you! I wanna meet she—uhm—her. Shit, that sounded cooler in my head." Coop paces the room as he shouts.

"Dude, you're fucking wasted," Steve imparts his incredible wisdom as he joins us with two more packs of beer. "Move over, Barton. I need to catch up. What's going on and why isn't the game on? Did they pull Dev already?"

"No, Columbo just shut it off so he could drill me."

"You're not old enough to be making Columbo references, man," Steve laughs as pops the top on a beer and starts setting up a fresh bowl to smoke. "Alright, put little Coop back on TV!"

"Hollywood," Coop says from across the room. "As soon as people found out he's my brother, the team started calling him Hollywood, and it stuck. He's getting a mask done up with a Hollywood theme."

"Well, then turn fucking Hollywood back on!"

"Hollywood? Come on, Mini Cooper is way cooler and would get him an endorsement deal," I grumble, handing my lighter to Steve in exchange for a fresh beer.

Coop turns the TV back on and drops back onto the couch, disrupting Lulu, who was sleeping peacefully and is now just staring at him with her tongue sticking out. I love that dog, but she's the biggest derp I've ever met.

The three of us settle back into our longstanding tradition. Coop goes off to a shoot or a ceremony and when he comes back, I remind him he's a normal person by eating pizza, getting blazed, and watching Devin play. If Devin wasn't playing, it would be video games. Steve reminds him he's a playboy by trying to get him to go out and fuck every woman in LA. It's a very delicate line, and we're here to push him off the high wire and laugh when he falls. Brothers.

I check my phone again, and there's still nothing. If she's not texting, she's presumably okay, still I can't help but worry after meeting her parents. I pull up a local flower shop I've used on photo shoots before because the owner is nice. I found them a few years ago while I was working at a wedding. As I scroll through, I realize I have no idea what kinds of flowers to get her.

"Dude, are you…NO SHIT! FLOWERS? Oh, fuck!" Steve screams with laughter. "We've got flowers, Coop!"

I watch the end of the game while my two best friends annoy the living shit out of me, then I go out to the back patio. It's still early, but I'm getting antsy, so I call Lexi and leave her a voicemail. I feel like an absolute idiot as I talk, trying to listen and make sure the guys don't come out and interrupt. She doesn't need to hear these two morons—not yet, anyhow. When I hang up, my phone vibrates and my heart leaps out of my chest, but then I see it's only the flower shop confirming that they dropped off the delivery.

"Hey man." Steve pokes his head out, clearly buzzed. "We're going to the bar. Come on. We should bring Pongo! PONGO! HELP US PICK UP CHICKS!"

"Coop has a bar," I remind him as Pongo trots in from the other room. He's a huge Pitbull with a heart of gold. He's also Coop's therapy dog—only about five people in the city know that. Steve constantly wants to take him out to the bars to attract women, but since Coop doesn't need the world knowing he had a fucking breakdown two years ago, it's hard to get the dog in. Money doesn't always keep people from spilling your secrets for more money.

"Yeah, but we're going to the other bar to pick up some lllllllladies."

"That's a terrible idea. You're both high as fuck right now." I'm going to lose this argument, and I should go home. It doesn't matter, though, because even when I'm high, I'm the responsible one.

"Duh, that's why we're calling a rideshare, bro."

We end up in this bar that's not high end, but not a total dive either. For a Sunday night, it's pretty packed, and the second we open the door, I can hear why. Loud, off-key warbling is coming from a small stage as some poor drunk pair try hard to sing Bohemian Rhapsody. I've never been so glad that Freddy Mercury is dead.

"Stevie!" a voice screams from across the bar as soon as we walk in. He's got his arm wrapped around my shoulder, pulling me along. He spins toward the voice just in time to catch the petite blond who's launched herself at him. I'm half surprised they aren't making out already, but then I'm also a little surprised she jumped at him like that and wasn't worried about breaking her implants. It's never been my thing, but Steve is here for the boobs. Real or fake doesn't matter, so long as they're big enough to smother him.

"Becky! Holy shit! Are you working here now?"

"Yeah." She leans back in his arms, pushing her hair over her shoulder to present her name tag—and her boobs. "Oh my god, you can sit in my section and I'll totally hook you up." She turns to me. "Who do we have here?"

She gives me a wink, and I return a tight-lipped smile. When Coop stumbles in behind us, her eyes go a little too wide. His hat and sunglasses aren't as good a disguise as he thinks they are.

"Becky, do me a favor, put us where no one is gonna bother us, okay?"

I glance around and shake my head. At this rate, it will only be a matter of minutes before someone clocks Chase. He's hard enough to miss at 6'4" with long hair and a solid build, but he wasn't even sober enough to grab a hat without the insignia of his brother's team on the front. The bar is pretty small, but luckily she's able to tuck us into a high-top table toward the back. She slides onto Steve's lap with her arm around him like she's here with us and not working.

"So, you going to introduce me to your friends, Stevie?"

"Oh, Mr. Angst and Brooding over here is James." He winks and I just give him a glare that immediately says no to whatever he's planning. "James, this is Becky. We met at one of the other bars closer to the college. Be nice."

"Hi," I offer, but she's not looking at me—which is normal.

"And this dashing guy right here is?—"

"Hi, Becky, was it? I'm Antonio Banderas. Nice to meet you."

"I totally knew you were someone famous! Oh my god! You look so much taller in person."

"Younger too, I'm told."

"Becky, babe, can you go get us a round of beers and shots of… whatever's expensive and good?" Steve leans over and kisses her neck before whispering something. She hops off his lap and skips toward the bar, where she giggles and points us out to friends of hers.

"Dude, if you fuck this up, I'm not taking you out anywhere anymore," Steve threatens, leaning over the table and pointing at me. "Girlfriend or not, try to fucking enjoy yourself!"

"Is that a promise? Because I'd really like that in writing."

"Come on, man." He grins. "Becky's gonna hook us all up. Please don't be an asshole. I just wanna get my dick sucked and play with her tits."

I nudge Chase's arm, and he looks up from his phone at Steve. "Uhh, whatever Barton said." He flashes us a tooth grin and looks around the room.

Being out with the two of them is like wrangling cats, or very annoying toddlers. Chase will talk to anyone about anything. He'll sign autographs, let people take pictures, and anything else to please a fan. He's a genuinely nice guy, but he's been struggling with some pretty debilitating anxiety and tries to keep a low profile when he can. Steve is a fucking terror. I've known him for almost fifteen years and he wasn't always this playboy man whore, as Dani calls him. One wants to hide, the other wants to fuck, and I'm stuck in the middle.

Sure enough, Becky comes back a few minutes later with a bucket of beers, six shots, and two friends.

"Stevie, this is Amber and Tiffany." I'm already willing to bet those aren't their real names, but who the fuck uses their real name now, anyway? Amber comes around the table next to me and Tiffany slides up on Chase. And here's the reason Steve hates taking me places where he's trying to hook up. I'm an excellent wingman, unless it involves actually sleeping with someone just because my buddy wants to get laid. Steve's people expect to be doing something sexual within the next ten minutes.

Steve and Becky excuse themselves almost immediately, ducking into the nearby bathroom.

"Hey, I'm sorry to disappoint you lovely ladies, but we're both spoken for," Chase says, which surprises me, but it means I'm not the evil villain tonight. The women let out a huff and storm off, mumbling something about Antonio Banderas. Chase tips back his beer and dumps his shot into a nearby plant that looks fake. "I have got to stop letting Steve convince me to come out to these places. So, you gonna tell me her name or what, man?"

"Alexis," I sigh, sliding my phone over with a picture of her pulled up.

"Digging the hair. She's fucking cute, man!" He looks around again as a new group takes over the Karaoke and it's some twangy country song. "Did Dani set you guys up?"

"Sort of. It was a little of Dani's matchmaking, weird timing, and a gig from Sam all coming together. We're actually working together on a project."

"Ooof, I hope that goes better for you than it has for me. How long have you been going out?"

He's hurt that I didn't tell him sooner, like I've been going behind his back or something. "Uh, let's see, tomorrow will be," I make a show of counting things out on my fingers, "Five days since I met her. If you count the first day. We're around eighty hours in right now." I only know because she made the comment this morning about it not even being seventy-two hours. "Dating or whatever we're doing started yesterday morning."

"Wait, what? Seriously?" He smiles, realizing that I wasn't hiding this from him for as long as he assumed. "Alright man, spill it. Don't skip shit either, I want the full artist in love breakdown."

I can't help but smile. A warmth I'm not used to runs through me, I feel it every time I'm around her or thinking about her. Which is near constantly. I tell him about the coffee shop meeting, the weirdness of the club, and the beach, and he listens intently, like it's the best story he's ever heard. I avoid personal matters, and unlike Steve, I don't discuss intimate details.

"She's a designer, and a damn good one. She's got some mixed media pieces in her apartment that are just…they're amazing. You should commission her to do one for you. It would look epic in your place."

"Amazing, huh? Like her."

Blush creeps up my face and I nod, biting my lip. "I feel like a fucking teenage idiot. She's just, I dunno, incredible."

"Downsides?"

"Crazy parents. They already both hate me, but it's a mutual feeling. They fucked up her confidence, probably more. Culty nut jobs in my opinion."

"Well, look at you go, Romeo. Wait." He glares at me and I can't hide from what's coming next. "There's something else, isn't there? Does she have like eight kids? Two heads? A tail? There's something, otherwise you'd be gushing more about her. I've listened to you in love before. There wasn't enough prose and flowery words in your description for me to fall for it."

"Well, we already had a fight."

"Oh, shit…that's quick."

"Elle texted me. She's following her, or me. Probably both of us." I take a drink while he lets out a whistle. "She sent a picture of Lexi and I in a…compromising position. Threatened to send it to Lexi's family and our boss. Said she'd post it online. I hadn't told Alexis about her yet, so it kind of blew up in my face."

"That's rough, man. Elle's a fucking bitch and a half."

"Yeah, except we talked through it. I mean, I had an anxiety attack and fully freaked out, but Alexis stayed."

"That's actually healthy, shit. As for Elle, dude, you need a lawyer." He finishes his beer and pats me on the back. "Did you tell your new lady about your family yet? Show her what you've got in common?"

"A little about when I was a kid, all vague stuff. I told her about you, too. She hasn't pushed and I'm not ready to go deeper into that."

"She sounds amazing, man. It's good to see your happy grouch face back, and I can't wait to meet her."

"You already have, technically. She waited in a four-hour line for your dumb ass autograph."

"Oh fuck you, man! You know how nuts that shit makes me! Tell her I'll sign anything she wants and I'm so sorry she waited so long." He pushed my arm. "Speaking of signing, did you open the envelope of doom yet?"

"No. I'm thinking about signing the papers and just being done with all of them, though."

My father's death was hard enough to deal with, so my surprise when my estranged sister and her lawyer showed up at my door the day before the funeral was palpable. The deal sounded straightforward enough until I realized she was lying about everything just to get me to sign the papers. My father's art is worth a small fortune, maybe a medium-sized fortune now that he's dead, and he left it all to me. He left me the house and shares in a company I didn't know about—enough shares for majority control. Majority control over my mother's company.

My mother and sister are both terrible human beings, but they're not dumb. The problem is, neither was my dad. I always thought his income was from the art, but it turns out, he was living off his shares of the company and giving his art away. So, now I'm in legal limbo, I'm broke, and I'm trying to figure out how to handle all of this without letting go of dad's art. If I take the company, I relinquish all rights to my father's art, his name, all of it. If I keep my dad's art and give up the company, I give up a four million dollar and counting trust he had set up in my name that I'd inherit as the main shareholder.

I'm not a numbers guy, none of it makes sense to me and the only person close to a lawyer that I know is Steve. He went to law school until he burned out, then became a personal trainer. He checked out the paperwork and said it ranked in the top five craziest contracts he ever read.

The paperwork mainly involves my parents, but Elle also has a stake depending on my choice. If she doesn't get the company, she gets dad's art. If she gets dad's art, she's going to destroy it. If I pick dad's art, she'll have enough money to make my life hell. I know why dad agreed, so I can't pretend to be clueless, but that doesn't mean it sucks any less.

They've made counter offers, all of them worse than the last. I haven't even bothered to read the latest one. There was always one part of the contract Elle focused on most. In the event of my death, Elle gets everything. I don't think she'd outright kill me, but she doesn't have too far to push me before I'm at the end of my rope. With dad gone, I've taken a few steps closer to the edge. All that changed on Thursday morning, though.

"You won't sign, you can't."

"If I don't, she'll go after Lexi."

"If you do, she'll fucking rip you apart. There won't be a need to go after Lexi because there won't be a Jamie. You know I'm right."

There's laughter and the sound of plastic cups clattering to the floor as Steve and Becky make their way back out of the supply closet and over toward the table. Chase leans in closer. "Stop fighting this alone and let me help. I'll call some people. I'm sure my agent has contact with some decent contract lawyers at this point."

"Even the really bad ones cost more than I have. I had to fucking get a loan on the house already just to pay the funeral expenses and other shit. I couldn't even go through the bank for that."

"Yeah, and that was fucking dumb. So shut up and let me help you this time, you prick."

"Hey! Why'd you scare the girls off, Antonio ?" Steve's laugh interrupts us, then he looks over to the stage where someone is murdering Hozier. "When does Dev get here? I wanna do karaoke and you fuckers won't do it unless he's here to make an ass out of himself."

"His stuff is getting here next week; he'll be here as soon as their away stint is over." Fun Chase had slipped away somewhere during our conversation. He's pulled his hat down lower and he's hunched over his beer, making it harder for people to see him. Elle scares the shit out of him, mostly because she hasn't messed with him yet. That's partly because of his amazing agent who watches out for him. He's had one scandal in his whole life, and it wasn't even his fault, but the media storm after it happened was more than he could take. His agent wants to keep it from happening again.

Steve orders another round of beers, then he notices Chase hiding from the crowd. "What the fuck? Why are you two all serious and messing up my blow job high? Paparazzi again? I'm self-employed; I'll go punch that motherfucker in the face."

We look at each other, not sure we should even bring it up, but someone has to warn him, and it's my sister. "Elle is in town. She said she went by the house the other day."

"What?!" He yells it so loud that several people look our way to see if a fight is about to break out. The color drains from his face and it's like he becomes a different person as he falls back against the wall. "What the fuck? When did she get here and why am I only just now hearing about it?"

It's completely justified for Steve to be mad. The last time Elle was in town, she nearly got him arrested, sent his then fiancé to the hospital, and cost him a huge client all because he kicked her out of my dad's funeral. It's the other reason we put up with Steve's crap. He stuck with me through all of that. We also recognize that he acts like an absolute dickhead because of the mess Elle made of his life. It's his way of coping, pretending he doesn't care about anything or anyone. That way, they can't get close enough to hurt him again. I hate that it's my fault. The guilt is part of why I keep playing along with his game.

"I'm going to make some calls in the morning and get a lawyer to check this contract shit out," Chase answers. "If she's stalking you and sending pictures, we should probably get out of here. This bar is a little too public. It might be good for you and your girl to get out of town for a while."

"Already working on that. Luckily, it's part of the job."