Star: Price of Fame, #2

By Elizabeth Lynx

A movie star moves next door. A disabled veteran minds his own business watching a rather loud *ahem* movie in his bedroom. What happens when she gets fed up with the noise by breaking into his place only to discover him in his birthday suit?

Hi. I'm Niki Sargeant. The actress mentioned above. No, that's not a movie pitch I plan to show producers. It's my life.

I recently became Hollywood's it-girl and moved into a swanky condo. When I hear a woman screaming rather loudly from my new neighbor's home, I'm concerned. Breaking into his condo seems like a good idea at the time, at least that's what my friends tell me. I realize it's a mistake once he appears in the living room with no clothes on.

Yet, I can't keep my eyes off him.

Did Niki say she broke into my place over concern about a woman screaming? Let me tell you the truth.

I'm Tucker Six, former Marine, the current head of a tech firm, and a mysterious loner. Maybe not a loner or mysterious but I am where it counts.

Wait, that didn't come out right. Let's start over.

There is only one reason Niki broke into my home, my body. I won't lie. I'm cut and the coolest person within a five-mile radius. I can't blame Niki for wanting me. But I have a problem.

She obviously wants me for my body but I wanted her heart.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Elizabeth Lynx
• Release date: Dec 29, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393344070

Elizabeth Lynx

Elizabeth Lynx is not a robot, that's for sure. At least she says she's not. She is also not a space alien. How do I know this, because she was born in Baltimore Maryland in the 1970's when no one wanted to be in Baltimore Maryland so why would her parents say that if it weren't true. Of course she has had her suspicions growing up and is still in a continual search for evidence that backs up her space age theories.To bide her time she writes about 'normal' people and their sexy romantic lives. Her husband chooses to put up with her theories and paranoid musings. Her two little boys help her see that perhaps she isn't an alien but more of a climbing rock. This theory is new, so she needs more time to develop it further.She has a website called E. Lynx (http://elynx.weebly.com).

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Star

Elizabeth Lynx

Star

Copyright © 2019 by Elizabeth Lynx

All rights reserved.

No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

Contents

STAR

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

EPILOGUE

Series Order

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STAR

A movie star moves next door. A disabled veteran minds his own business watching a rather loud *ahem* movie in his bedroom. What happens when she gets fed up with the noise by breaking into his place only to discover him in his birthday suit?

Hi. I’m Niki Sargeant. The actress mentioned above. No, that’s not a movie pitch I plan to show producers. It’s my life.

I recently became Hollywood’s it-girl and moved into a swanky condo. When I hear a woman screaming rather loudly from my new neighbor’s home, I’m concerned. Breaking into his condo seems like a good idea at the time, at least that’s what my friends tell me. I realize it’s a mistake once he appears in the living room with no clothes on.

Yet, I can’t keep my eyes off him.

Did Niki say she broke into my place over concern about a woman screaming? Let me tell you the truth.

I’m Tucker Six, former Marine, the current head of a tech firm, and a mysterious loner. Maybe not a loner or mysterious but I am where it counts.

Wait, that didn’t come out right. Let’s start over.

There is only one reason Niki broke into my home, my body. I won’t lie. I’m cut and the coolest person within a five-mile radius. I can’t blame Niki for wanting me. But I have a problem. She obviously wants me for my body but I wanted her heart.

ONE

Niki

This place would make the best porn shower scene, Willa said as she demonstrated by bending over, placing her hands on the glass wall. See, my face doesn’t even touch the glass. Plenty of pump-action space without worrying about my face being squished. And the mirrors! She pointed to the large, framed mirrors which hung over the double vanity. That would be hot.

How would you have sex up there? I asked lifting the sixth, or was it my seventh, glass of sparkling wine in the air and stared at the mirrors.

Willa threw her head back with laughter. Not on the mirrors. Sex in front of them. Great view. She wiggled her eyebrows.

Both Emmie and I let out a simultaneous, Oh . . .

I let out a snort of laughter because I realized how dumb my question was, but then again, I was drunk. We all were. I guess that’s why imagining a porn scene in my new condo’s bathroom wasn’t weird at all. In some ways, it was logical.

It’s got five jets. If this acting thing doesn’t work out, I’ll start my own porn company, I said as I drained the bubbly into my mouth. My cheeks expanded and with a gulp, the sweet liquid slid down my throat. I discarded the flute on the counter, almost missing it completely but managed to use my boobs to catch it before it fell to the floor.

Being well-endowed definitely had its privileges.

Don’t put ideas in her head, Niki. You know Willa would want to star in your first production, Emmie said, leaning against the white marble vanity next to me. Her chestnut hair and olive skin were in stark contrast to her white pantsuit and the white walls of my bathroom.

I’m pretty sure Hunter and especially, Jon, would nix that idea right off the bat. But it does give me an idea . . . Willa’s green eyes slid to the side as she bit her bottom lip. That could only mean one thing.

Whatever you’re cooking up, I want no part of it. I’ve just made it in Hollywood, and I can’t afford to screw it up, Willa. My words came out a little slurred as I pointed to my friend.

Normally, I wouldn’t be drunk, but it was celebration time.

It was moving-in day into my new condo. Not just any place, but the poshest residential building in Libertyville, Maryland. Sure, it wasn’t the big city—Libertyville was a small suburban town—but everything in this building was state of the art. The association that ran this town knew how to spend the town’s money. There wasn’t a mayor, just an elected committee. They attracted the best developers, and I was reaping the rewards by living in the fanciest condo that existed outside of New York City.

Oh, what does this do? Willa asked seconds too late for my warning.

Oh no, no, no. I pushed back from the vanity and ran to the shower.

The ceiling opened up and a warm rain shower cascaded over her body. That’s how it was written in the brochure—every faucet produced a cascade and every floor tile oozed warmth.

Wow. Her long red hair, usually thick with a rosy shine, was more like a wet mop after a wine tasting.

Sorry. I winced. I meant to tell you to ask me first before touching any of the buttons. After the dry cleaning incident I had yesterday with the built-in laundry hamper, I’ve learned to read the manual before doing anything.

Worry managed to wiggle through my inebriated haze and I quickly grabbed a green towel and handed it to her. With a hesitant touch, she slid open the glass shower door and stepped out.

That would have been awesome if I was naked.

I held up my finger. Give me a second. I’ll find you something to change into. I left the master bathroom and slipped back into my huge bedroom.

The last thing I wanted was for my friend to be uncomfortable in my new place, or worse, catch a cold.

Moving into this place wasn’t on my plan to ring in the new year, but when life did a one-eighty in November and I went from a nobody to a somebody within days, my little studio apartment wasn’t keeping the paparazzi away—or the stalkers.

Instead of fighting off a New Year’s Eve hangover with my usual plan of eating my favorite candy—gummy worms, of course—and binge-watching a telenovela, I hired movers. My friends insisted on helping by bringing over the bubbly and a box of pizza from my favorite pizza joint, Pizzeria Atlantic.

Not that bad if you asked most people, but I wasn’t much of a social person. Don’t get me wrong, I loved my friends, but after the big New Year’s party Willa threw last night, I wanted to curl up on my couch and watch TV or read a book.

I scanned the room and found a box labeled clothes sitting on my mattress that lay in the middle of the floor. Opening it, I rummaged, throwing clothes onto the floor. Most of those things were for summer, but I located a gray sweatshirt with a giant crab on the front.

Now for some pants . . . What the hell?

There was banging coming from the wall of my bedroom. It was so loud that I felt the vibrations from the wood floor and my toes tingled.

And then came the cry.

It was female and she didn’t sound like she was upset. She sounded like she was coming . . . hard.

Holy shit, Niki! At least wait until we leave before you break out your vibrator. Willa’s voice came from the bathroom. I turned to find her with a big smile on her face, peeking into the bedroom.

I get that it’s been a while, Niki, but my stomach’s a bit queasy from last night. If you want us to leave so you can be alone, just let us— Emmie said with her hand over her eyes as she stood next to Willa.

Oh my God! I’m not masturbating. That’s coming from next door. I threw my thumb behind me and hiccupped.

Emmie dropped her hand and Willa’s eyes widened.

That’s when Emmie said something that I would have never believed she was even capable of thinking. I’d known her since first throwing dirt at her on the playground when we were three. She stood, brushed off the dirt, and pointed to the ground where the dirt normally resided. We became friends right after that because even then, I knew I needed someone level-headed in my life.

Let’s sneak in there and secretly record her.

Willa jumped back as if Emmie had spiders crawling all over her. Who are you and what have you done with my friend? Willa said making a cross with her fingers and holding them in front of Emmie.

She shrugged and said, I think up crazy ideas sometimes. It’s not always Willa, you know.

No, I said. "No, you really don’t. And it is always Willa."

Willa nodded. "Yeah. If you start coming up with zany plans to get us into trouble, then what’s the point of me being here? Do I cease to exist if you take over? Will I disappear like Michael J. Fox’s hand in Back to the Future?"

I realized yesterday that perhaps I’m a little too organized.

I snorted. My hand flew to my face in a mad attempt to reverse the snort. Sorry.

Emmie sighed and came into the bedroom. She grabbed the sweatshirt and after reaching into the box of clothes managed to find an old pair of jeans.

This was the Emmie I knew. The take-charge and make sure things got done Emmie. Like making sure I had help today and thinking to bring over pizza. She was on top of things and now she was suggesting doing something illegal? That wasn’t my friend.

I wondered if something had happened to her last night.

"I