Hollywood Actress: Hollywood Royalty, #1

By L. Grubb

Acting is my life but cocaine is my salvation.

My name is Mya Fritz and I'm Hollywood Royalty, Oscar winner, best actress of 2018. But I'm a fucking wreck, though on the outside I act like I own the world.

I've not always been this way, I swear it. But after a relationship to another Hollywood big wig, I've been left reeling. He has power over me that no one else has. He has something that could ruin everything I've worked my ass off for. And I have no doubt that Finn Thimble will fucking annihilate me. There's nothing I can do to stop him getting revenge if I ever talk about what he put me through. This secret that only we know about, a secret so big that my fucking family would be ashamed of me over, is the one reason I turned to drugs. Drugs help me breathe, they help me focus. Hell, they fucking do everything to stop me from ending my own miserable existence. I know I should be grateful for what I have, and I am, but it's hard to stay at the top when an epic thunder cloud looms over your head.

I have no one in my corner and that's because no one knows. And it needs to stay that way. Especially as my growing feelings for Hollywood Actor Levi Jameson is on the line. I promised I'd never involve myself with another actor, but here I am again, falling for someone I shouldn't. Levi is the opposite of Finn; gentle, kind and fucking delicious. I mean, have you seen his dimples? Swoon.
But our budding friendship is built on lies. I know this; he doesn't. He doesn't know the real reason I'm pulling back from him. And if I tell him? Finn will know, he'll then make sure the world knows our dirty secret.

Can I move forward and be happy? Could I ever have a relationship with someone as prominent and handsome as Levi Jameson; the Hollywood heart throb? Time will tell but fuck, this isn't going to be pretty.

All I can do is hope and pray. Hope that cocaine keeps me from talking. Hope that If the truth ever comes out that I can pick myself up and carry on… with or without Levi. Wish me fucking luck. 

• Language: English
• Publisher: L. Grubb
• Release date: Jan 18, 2019
• ISBN: 9781386370970

Book preview

I have everything I could ever dream of; a mansion in Beverly Hills, a kickass career, family and endless amounts of Lou Boutin shoes. On the outside, I look invincible, successful. On the inside I’m fucking screaming, I feel like I’m being torn in half and the reason is a secret that can never be revealed. Cocaine has become my number one love, and I live to party.

I’m one of the top three Hollywood Actresses of 2018, I’m rich, I’m loved. But I don’t feel it, I feel like everything is one gigantic chore, a mess. How can I feel like this? I should be thankful for where I am, what I’ve achieved. Something inside my brain has snapped and I can’t find a way to regain myself; to be me again.

Acting is my biggest love and if I keep going the way I am, I won’t be doing it anymore. I would be dead. I know this, but I can’t seem to stop. Drugs are my only salvation, my only out. My family have started to notice that something isn’t right, even though I put on my best poker face at family dinners or when my parents make an impromptu visit to my house on the hills. A house big enough for God knows how many people with eight and a half baths and a massive pool, a jacuzzi big enough for fifteen people plus myself, a TV that’s almost the length of my entire living room wall and a kitchen that even Gordan Ramsey would be jealous of. But it’s just material things, right? It’s not who I am, and it’s certainly not where I came from. I remember buying this house just because I could. The house I grew up in was a three-bed place with one bathroom. My three sisters and myself shared one room and my four brothers shared another, while my parents had their own room. But food wasn’t much, school was our only escape, and the neighborhood in East L.A. was driven by crime and gang wars. Even back then, I vowed to myself that I’ll be rich one day, I’ll buy a big house and get my family away from that neighborhood before they were killed. And that’s exactly what I’ve done. They have their own place in Beverly Hills, paid for by myself and my brothers and sisters live there too. Who needs to buy their own place when mom and dad’s is big enough for everyone?

My parents are the kindest, sweetest people any person could ask for. Although we were quite poor until I made it big, they still made sure we had everything we needed, even if it was hand-me-downs or second-hand shit from a charity. My mom was inventive with food and we had big meals made with random ingredients, but it was always delicious. Though now I’m older, wiser, I don’t think I’d ever try mom’s Spaghetti surprise again. They live a few streets over and are always available if I need them. I never do, I don’t like airing my dirty laundry even to my own parents. I keep shit bottled up tight and I let it fester at the back of my brain. It’s certainly not doing me any fucking favors though, is it?

I shouldn’t be wallowing in self-pity, I should be basking in the glory of winning two Oscars last week, but I stare at them, sat proudly on the fireplace in my den, and my stomach churns. I’m grateful, delighted, but how can I inwardly accept such a prestige award, or two in this case, when I’m stewing on secrets that I’m terrified will be revealed. Thanks to my ex, Finn Thimble, I’m always looking over my fucking shoulder, I jump when my cell chirps a notification or when my intercom from the main gates rings when I’m not expecting someone it gives me the shakes. No one should have to live like this, no one should have to pay such a terrifying price for a mistake that should never have happened.

And my secrets should always stay under lock and key in my brain. But that’s not how life works out, is it? And I’m terrified of it being revealed.

One last swipe of my lip gloss and I glance into my dresser mirror. That will do. The purple bags under my eyes have been perfectly concealed and the minimal make-up gives me a natural look.

Mya, hurry the fuck up, will you? My brother’s booming voice echoes throughout the hallway just as I open my bedroom door. We’re going to be late.

Shut up, Marco. We have plenty of time, I say as I come down my long, elegant staircase towards the entry hall where Marco stands with his arms crossed, scowling at me as I deliberately walk slowly towards him. Where’s Jeff and Anderson?

In the car. Marco’s my older brother. He runs a security firm and I hired them as my personal bodyguards. Marco’s always been the protective one out of the four brothers I have so it only made sense for him and his guys to protect me when I do venture out. He can act pissed all he wants but I know he loves me really. We’re more best friends then brother and sister. He’s the only one in my family that knows the extent of my drug use, though he never talks to me about it.

Well, what are you waiting for? Let’s go. I laugh and punch him in the arm as I walk past to the open front door. I hear his chuckle behind me and his footsteps as he closes in. Nuh uh, no rough housing today, big brother, I have somewhere to be.

I reach the black limousine and Jeff opens the door for me. Ma’am.

Thanks, Jeff. I give him a warm smile as I slide in. The door shuts with a gentle click beside me and I lean my head back, closing my eyes. Sleep for me is rare and the constant ache of exhaustion that covers my whole body makes putting one foot in front of the other a major task. But sitting here, on the soft leather seats of the limo, I feel my body relaxing. I’m safe in here, I have three bodyguards who would kill anyone who tried to harm me.

Marco slides in beside me and I startle. I didn’t even hear the car door open and I peek over at him with one eye. Not driving the sedan today, Marco? I ask, pretending he didn’t make me jump at all.

Nah, I think sitting with you and making sure you’re okay is more important. His stare burns my cheek as my body tenses. Are you okay though, Mya?

Of course, I am. I put on my best dazzling smile as I turn my head to face him, though I know he’s not fooled. Why wouldn’t I be?

Oh please. Drop the bullshit, Mya. Marco’s voice is calm and deep, his expression a look of deep concern. Don’t forget I know everything.

Not everything, I mumble under my breath and my stomach churns.

What was that?

Nothing, Marco. Don’t worry. I sigh as I lean my head back again. I’m getting it under control, okay?

From my vantage point, it doesn’t look like it. I can hear the hurt in his voice, the fear of what I’m doing to myself. And for the record, I haven’t told anyone but if you keep it up, I won’t have a choice in the matter.

I said I’m getting a handle on it. The rage inside me burns me from the inside out and I’m terrified of Marco discovering the root of my issues. Please, don’t tell anyone.

His sigh is enough to tell me he’s not going to say shit, and relief floods through me. The last thing I need is the rest of my family on my back about my drug habits; my lifestyle. And if the studio I work for gets wind of it? I’ll lose my career. The thought itself fills me with fucking dread. I can’t lose my contract, the movie I’m working on now is going to make it big, so we’ve been told. That’s where we’re off to now. My lines have been memorized, I’m more prepared now than I ever have been.

I do my deep breathing exercises to get me ready for the scenes ahead, clear my mind of everything that isn’t related to ‘The Storm Surge’ movie we’re shooting. The movie is a killer, it’s about a hurricane that sweeps across the south coast of America, a category-five monster. It’s a fun one to shoot yet extremely intense. The special effects that will be put into the movie is going to be amazing. I think, for me, this is the most exciting movie I’ve ever shot. I can feel the adrenaline of being in front of the camera surge through my bloodstream. It’s the most invigorating feeling, and I’ve been shooting movies since I was sixteen. I started off at Disney, then when I hit twenty-two, after finishing college, I moved on to movies intended not for children. And since then, I’ve been unstoppable. I have 24-million followers on Instagram, 19-million followers on twitter and 50-million followers on Facebook. Like I said, I’m unstoppable. My fans want more, and I’ll give them more. And as long as I can get myself under control, I won’t be outed like Lindsay Lohan or Charlie Sheen. No-one will ever find out. Oh, and I’m still only twenty-five years old.

Okay, I need help, I whisper, my head still back and my eyes squeezed tightly shut.

I can arrange that for you. With discretion. You can do this, Mya. Marco grasps my hand that’s tapping a rhythm on the seat between us. We can do this.

Tears sting the back of my eyes, but I take a few deep breaths and wait for the feeling to fade away before I reply. I can do this. For a moment, I believe my words. But do I really have it in me to speak to a total stranger about my feelings, about the past? My heart stutters in my chest and my brain feels like it’s fizzing with electricity; anxiety, my best friend.

I’ll be with you every step of the way, Mya. You’re not alone. He gives my hand one last squeeze before retreating. I let out a long, hard breath that I didn’t realise I was holding and open my eyes and look out the window.

I need to get my emotions in check, I need these feelings to retract and disappear before I enter the studio. To distract me from my menacing thoughts, I watch the scenery fly by, the people as they study the stars on the Hollywood Walk of Fame, the tourists who snap pictures with the stars on the ground, smiling in joyous excitement at being in the heart of Hollywood. Oh, to feel that freedom again, to feel joy warm my insides and to feel that excitement that once used to consume me as I met with fans, taking selfies with them and signing their merchandise. One day, I’ll get those feelings back. One day.

My body is exhausted after eight hours of shooting for The Storm Surge. I’m sat in front of a dresser backstage, staring at my reflection in the light-framed mirror. My make-up has been done to perfection by the make-up artist but the purple bags that puff out under my eyes are starting to make an appearance. Anxiety ripples through me as I wonder if they were picked up on camera as Levi Jameson and I were shooting the last scene of the day. Did he notice them? Did the director? The producers? My hands start to shake, and I bite the inside of my lip. But rationality comes through my brain; if they noticed the state of me under my make-up, wouldn’t they have said something? And to be fair, it’s been a long-ass day and I’m bound to be tired. Deep breath in, and out, and the anxiety recedes and the bubble of panic that was squeezing my chest, gradually disappears. I shake my head and grab the concealer in front of me; among a shit ton of make-up. I apply it gently, rubbing it in until the purple fades into the shade of my skin. Much better. A little bit of mascara and lip gloss, and I almost look like myself again.

Mya? The gravelly voice behind me sends goosebumps over my skin. There’s no denying the Levi Jameson is fucking hot. Standing at six-foot two-inches, he looms over everyone. He has muscles on top of muscles that bulge through anything he wears. His milk-chocolate beard frames a chiselled jaw and exposes his high cheekbones, makeing him a stunning specimen of a man. Did I mention his man-bun? Boy, do I have thing for man-buns. They’re my thing and it totally suits Levi and makes him all the more striking to look at. But I vowed to never sleep or date a fellow actor again. Ever. Especially someone like Mr. Jameson. A bachelor and renowned playboy. But that doesn’t stop me fantasizing does it? Mya?

Sorry, daydreaming. Yes? Something wrong? I turn to face him, a gentle smile lifting the corners of my mouth and I notice his eyes stray to my lips. Huh? What’s that about?

We’re all going out for drinks. You coming? he asks, leaning against the door-frame, his arms crossed in front of him, making his muscles all the more delicious.

Umm… I chew my lip, debating whether this is a good idea when I promised Marco I was going to get help.

Oh, come on, Mya. You never come out with us. His chuckle comes from deep within his chest and reverberates around the room, hitting me square in the chest. Unless you got a man back home to get to.

No, no one waiting for me at home. Unless you count my Labrador, Marty. He laughs, and I can’t help but join in. He’s not only good to look at, but he’s easy to talk to and to work with. This is the first movie I’ve shot with him, and the first movie I’ve had to get intimate with someone on screen. Though it’s nothing like Fifty Shades and no nudity on the screen, I still get to feel his lips on mine, feel his beard scratch my face. Tingles shoot through my body and I inhale sharply. Jesus Christ, I need to get laid. Okay, okay. I’ll come. Where are we off to?

LA Valencia on Hollywood Boulevard. He peers behind his shoulder as shuffling sounds from outside the door.

I shrug, knowing the exclusivity of the club; the reputation. Hell, I’ve partied there too many times to count. Sweet. I’ll meet you guys there then. I have a ride.

A moment of silence ensues, and I feel awkward as his eyes never leave my face. Can I jump in with you? The thought of riding with Candice feels me with fucking dread.

Candice is another actress in the movie. She’s quite handsy when it comes to Levi and I can’t say I blame her but it’s a little embarrassing when he doesn’t actually reciprocate the feelings. I can see it generally makes him uncomfortable. I can’t help the giggle the escapes me. Yeah, no problem. Can’t say I blame you.

He shivers dramatically. She gives me the creeps if I’m honest. I couldn’t be more… cold with her but she doesn’t seem to get the hint.

I can tell. I roll my eyes before standing up, grabbing my purse from the floor as I do. I’m going to have to run home first though, if that’s okay? I’m sure Marty will keep you company for ten minutes while I change, I say as I walk towards him. You can always stay in the limo if you’re not comfortable.

He doesn’t even hesitate as he answers, Sure, not a problem. You have beer though, right? You look like a beer kinda girl.

I’m that easy to suss out, huh? I chuckle, shaking my head. Yep, I have beer. You can help yourself. I pause when I reach him, craning my neck back to look at his face. There’s leftover pizza in the fridge and sandwich shit too. Help yourself and make yourself at home.

I brush past him, not in a nasty way just in a way that I can capture his scent in my nose. It’s intoxicating to say the least. I’m not sure what aftershave he uses but it reminds me of sandalwood; its musky and addictive. I can hear his footsteps behind me as we leave the building, the dimming sun setting a fabulous sunset across the beach in front of me. I’m momentarily stunned by the view and stop in my tracks, taking in the pinks and oranges of the sky.

A thud in my back and I’m lurching forward, the sidewalk speeding towards my face and I squeal. Strong arms wrap around my middle and I stop, my heart thudding wildly in my chest. Holy mother of fuck, I say, my breathing ragged as I desperately try to calm my beating heart before I have a fucking heart attack.

You’re okay, Mya. I got you. Levi’s husky voice centres me, and that’s fucking weird as hell. No man’s voice instantly calms my emotions. I’m sorry, you stopped so suddenly I didn’t realise.

Standing straight and removing myself from his stronghold, I turn to face him, feeling my face flush with heat. It’s okay. My fault. I swallow, realizing how thirsty I am; how dry my throat is. I got caught up in the beauty of the sunset.

He smiles, his hands falling to his sides after he realizes I’m now safe and not going to face-plant the sidewalk and break my nose. It’s pretty. He looks over my shoulder to get a glimpse for himself. I take it you like sunsets then?

Sometimes. I’ve just not seen one that beautiful before. I tuck a lose strand of hair behind my ear. Let’s get a move on, shall we?

I turn on my heel, walking towards the idling limousine by the side of the road. Jeff’s already there opening the rear door. Evening, Jeff. Levi is coming with us. Can we head back to mine first? Then we’re going to LA Valencia.

Sure thing, Ma’am. He nods at Levi as we enter the limo, taking our respective seats.

I lean over to the built in cooler and retrieve two bottles of water and pass one to Levi. You must be thirsty. I know I am. That scene was quite intense.

Intense is another word to describe it, that’s for sure. His chuckle vibrates the seat and it echoes through me making my skin prickle with heat. What does he mean? Does he…? Surely not. Levi? Me? No way, we’re just co-stars.

Hmm. I hum a response, lost for words. The ride back to mine isn’t too long and before I know it, the gates at the front of my property are slowly opening and my house is looming large in front of us. I guess we’re here.

Wow, he says once we exit the vehicle. This place is huge. Are you sure it’s only you and Marty living here?

And Jessa, my Bengal cat. I smirk, removing my keys from my purse ready to unlock the door. Come on. I better hurry and change.

Gravel crunches beneath our feet as we walk towards the white building that I call home,