One time, a few years ago, I’d passed out at a party, and I woke to find her straddling me, undoing my jeans, attempting to get my cock out. I went absolutely mental on her. I was sixteen. She was thirteen at the time. Why the hell she was at the party in the first place, I’ll never know.

The girl is a nutjob—a nutjob who is now famous. She won a talent show on TV and became this big star.

“I remember. She’s a singer now, right? Won that show.”

“That’s her. Well, your father is doing a film about a poor girl, trailer-trash sort, who wins a talent contest and becomes a singing sensation overnight—worldwide fame, that kind of thing. Sort of like what happened with Mandi.”

“Except Mandi was hardly trailer trash. She grew up in Beverly Hills.”

“Semantics. And you know how people love a good rags-to-riches story. Anyway, it’s not a biographical film. But Mandi would be perfect for the part with her being a talent-show winner. She has a huge following here and internationally. She can actually sing, so we wouldn’t need a voice-over. She’ll be perfect for the part.”

“And what does this have to do with me?”

“Well, the studio’s been struggling these last few years. We haven’t had a box office hit in a long time. A lot have been straight-to-DVD movies. You would know all of this if you paid attention to the business that will one day be yours instead of wasting your time out here, on the beach, playing with your little surfboard.”

“Were you in any of the films?” I ask her.

“A few. Why?”

“That’s why they flopped. You’re getting old, Ava. People don’t want to see you on-screen anymore.”

Her lips press together. So, tightly I’m surprised they haven’t turned blue.

Wow. What she needs from me, she must really need because she didn’t bite.

“The studio needs a big hit, and this film will be it. Your father had a meeting with Mandi and her people the other day, and she’s close to signing on for the film. But she has a condition…”

“Which is?”

“You.”

“Me?” I laugh. “What does she want me for?”

“Well, you know how she’s always had a thing for you...” She lifts a brow.

“You can’t be serious.” I push off the wall. “She wants me? For what?”

“To date, I’m guessing.”

“Why? I’m sure she’s not struggling for dates nowadays.”

Ava shrugs. “I have no clue. But she is fixated on having you. You always have been a beautiful boy, Adam. Maybe it’s that. But whatever it is, this girl wants you.”

“Oh my God.” I drag my hands over her face. “You seriously want to pimp me out to this nutjob singer, so she’ll do a movie for Eric.”

“I wouldn’t call it pimping out.”

“No?” I throw her a look. “What would you call it?”

“Oh, stop whining, Adam. Do you know how many boys your age would kill to be in your position? All I’m asking you to do is fuck a hot famous singer and keep her happy so that she’ll make the movie. Then, once she’s contractually bound to the movie, you can dump her ass and come back here to your little trailer-trash girlfriend. I don’t see the problem in that.”

“The fact that you don’t see a problem is the problem in itself. You do know that Mandi is sixteen, right? You’re basically asking me to fuck a minor—you know, commit a felony, statutory rape.” I give a humorless laugh. I should be surprised, but I’m not.

“So, don’t fuck her. Just keep her happy until she signs the contract.”

I stare at her for a long moment, wondering how this woman is actually my mother, how I grew inside her for nine months, and how I somehow managed to come out normal—well, as normal as I can be after growing up with this fucking monster.

“Are you seriously asking me to do this?”

She gives me a look, telling me that she is.

“You’re insane. I’m not doing it, Ava. No fucking way.” I turn from her, walking toward the kitchen.

I need a drink. And there is alcohol here. I lied before. She just looked in the wrong place.

“I think you’re forgetting your place in this family,” she snaps, cold and low.

I whirl on her. “I think you’ve forgotten yours!” The words burst from me.

Her eyes go wide.

I never yell at Ava like this, and I never tell her no. I just do what she asks to make my life easier.

But enough is fucking enough.

She’s screwing with my relationship with Evie asking me to do this, and I won’t let Ava destroy what I have with her. I’m not losing Evie because of her.

“You forget that I’m the next in line for this shitty fucking studio that you and Eric love so much! The day Eric dies, that studio is mine. Your career is mine. You’d do well to remember that, Ava.” My heart is pumping hard. My body shaking with rage.

She folds her arms, her eyes like lasers on me. “You will do this, Adam. Or there will be no studio left to inherit. Your father has made some bad business decisions over the years, and the studio is failing.”

I let out a dry laugh. “Like I give a fuck. Let it go to shit, for all I care.”

I turn back away and get one step farther from her when she says, “If you don’t do this for me, then I will cut you off, dry. You’ll have nothing. No money. Nothing.”

Ah, the age-old threat, the one that I’m wise to now. And tonight, I actually have the balls to say it, the thought of Evie giving me the courage.

Slowly, I turn back to Ava and shake my head. “You won’t cut me off. And do you know why?” I take a step toward her. “Because you need me. You cut me off, and when Eric eventually dies—which won’t be long if he keeps up using drugs the way he is—with no son to inherit the studio, the studio goes straight to Uncle Richard. And you know how much he hates you. With Richard in control, your career will end as quickly as it began because Richard will put your ass out on the street. Then, all you’ll be is just another washed-up has-been who was once famous.” My chest is heaving. I’m so fucking angry.

She stares at me for a long moment. If she looks could kill, I’d be stone-cold dead.

Then, she picks up her purse and stands. “Don’t ever threaten me again, Adam. It would be a mistake to do so.”

She turns and walks out of my house.

I don’t breathe until I hear the front door slam shut, knowing that she’s gone.

I’m shaking. I clench my fists in and out, trying to calm myself. My only thought now is being with Evie.

I wait another minute, making sure Ava is gone, before grabbing my car keys.

I climb into the McLaren and turn the engine on. “Hotel California” by The Eagles is playing on the radio, and I can’t help but laugh at the irony.

That’s me. I can check out anytime I want, but I can never leave.

I can come to Malibu and hide here for a year, but ultimately, I’ll go back because I have to. It’s my predetermined fate.

I can never get away from the fact that I’m a Gunner.

Hands gripping the steering wheel, I lean my head forward against them and close my eyes. I take deep breaths in and out through my nose.

Evie.

She’s my way out. She’s so strong, so full of life. She’s my light at the end of this dark fucking tunnel called my life. I can get out with her by my side.

I lift my head, feeling a sense of purpose I’ve never felt before, and then I’m out of there and heading straight to her place.

I’ve never driven so fast before in my life. I’m surprised I don’t get pulled over.

I pull up with a screech of tires outside her building. I run inside, taking the stairs two at a time. I bang on her front door, trying to catch my breath.

Her dad opens the door.

“Mr. Taylor,” I say, out of breath. “Is Evie here?”

“Adam, for the hundredth time, call me Mick.” He chuckles. Then, his expression turns a little more serious. “Is everything okay? Because Evie came home in a less than happy mood earlier.”

“Yeah, everything’s fine.” Aside from my devil bitch of a mother turning up, and in my attempt to protect Evie from her, I ended up hurting her feelings.