Breaking Hollywood
Page 7

“I know exactly where your eyes are, Speedy. You just have great tits. It’s hard not to look at them, especially when you insist on drawing my attention to them.” I point at her cleavage.
She looks down and drops her arms. “God, you’re crass and disgusting and crude and-and…”
“You at a loss for words, Speedy? That’s a first. Hang on, let me get my camera out to capture the moment.” I pretend to reach for my phone.
“Ugh! You’re a pig!”
“Who’s a pig?” Tate asks, walking through the door.
“Me apparently.”
“Well, that’s nothing new.”
Tate’s eyes go to Speedy, who has swiveled around to look at him.
Then, a thought dawns on me.
Tate could like her. She’s definitely his type. Well, she’s everyone’s type.
And she could like him.
Sure, he’s not as hot as I am, but he is a good-looking bastard.
We have the same dark hair, except Tate wears his a bit shorter than mine. And I’m taller by a couple of inches. Our skin has the same olive tone to it. But, apart from that, we look completely different.
I look like our dad, whereas Tate looks like Mom.
And Tate is a better person than me. He always has been. He takes care of sick kids, for fuck’s sake. I read lines that someone else wrote, and I’m good at fucking. That’s about the extent of my abilities.
Tate has so much to offer. And I have literally nothing.
As I watch the interaction between them—which feels like it’s lasting forever when in fact it’s mere seconds—I feel my chest tighten.
But it’s definitely not jealousy because I don’t get jealous. Especially not when it comes to Tate.
I’d do anything for him. I always have, and there’s nothing that will ever change that. Especially not some hot chick who I want to get balls deep in.
If Tate likes Speedy, then I’ll step aside. Easy. I mean, at the end of the day, all I want to do is spend a little more time arguing with her and winding her up before eventually fucking her and then sending her on her way.
I have never been good at sticking with just one girl.
Still, I find myself holding my breath as he walks over to her, watching his face for signs of interest.
“I’m Tate, Gabe’s brother.” He holds his hand out to her.
She gets to her feet and shakes it. “Ava Simms. I ran over your brother’s foot with my car and broke it—his foot, not my car. He wanted me to lie and say it was a tank. But, actually, it’s a Mercedes Smart car. If you’re not familiar with them, they’re, like, super small. Tiny. Light as air in fact.” She glances my way, a smirk spread across her face. “Honestly, I don’t know how it could have broken his foot. He must have really weak bones. Or tiny feet, and you know what they say about a man with small feet.”
She’s evil. Pure evil.
I’m going to kill her. No doubt about it.
Forget worrying about if Tate likes her. I’m going to strangle her to death and then drop her body off at the hospital morgue. And I’ll wear a smile on my face the whole time.
“Agnes said that someone ran over your foot. But it was seriously one of those miniature cars? And your foot’s broken?” Tate chuckles.
“It wasn’t a tiny car. It was a tank.”
“He’s lying. It was my super-small and ultra-lightweight car that broke his weak foot,” Speedy tells Tate. “How small are your feet anyway?” she asks me, laughing.
“As big as my dick, which is eye-wateringly huge.”
“He wears a size ten,” Tate tells her.
“Ten and a half!” I yell.
“Isn’t that small for a guy who’s as tall as you?” she taunts.
“I wear a twelve, for clarification purposes,” Tate says.
“Fuck off, Tate. And you, Speedy”—I angrily eye her—“you are the actual devil. I’ll never trust you with anything ever again.”
“Oh, my heart is breaking.” She slaps her hand to her chest. “It’s your own fault. I told you I’d get you back, Hoppy.”
The look of triumph on her face would be sexy if I didn’t currently want to maim her.
It takes me a second to get what she means, and my eyes nearly bug out of my head. “You ratted me out because I called you Speedy? That is in no way comparable!”
“Who cares? I told you I’d get you back. And, honestly, the whole perving on my breasts only upped the ante and made it totally comparable, jerkface.”
“You bitch,” I scowl.
“That all you’ve got?” She laughs. “I thought you could do better than that.”
“Should I come back when you two are done?” Tate asks.
I say, “Yes,” at the same time as she says, “No.”
Screw my foot. I’ll get that sorted after I’ve sorted out the devil here.
“You just wait, Speedy. I’m gonna come at you with some serious payback when you least expect it.”
“Ooh. I’m shaking in my heels,” she mocks.
“I can’t believe a Smart car broke your foot.” Tate’s smile is getting wider by the second.
“Shut up. And we don’t know it’s broken for sure yet,” I counter.
Tate comes over, crouches down, and lifts my foot, examining it. I hiss at the pain from the movement.
“I’m pretty sure it’s broken, brother.” He looks up, a big-ass smirk on his face. “And it was broken by a baby car.”
“Fuck off. Those cars are not as light as they look. And she was sitting in it as well.” I jerk my head in Speedy’s direction. “That car is, what? A couple thousand pounds at least. Add on another one fifty from hefty over there, and you’re looking at some serious weight. Enough to break even the hardest man’s foot.”
“Hey!” she squeals. “Hefty? That’s just mean! I’m not hefty! And what the hell happened to ‘You weigh, what? One twenty?’” She mimics my voice.
I glare at her. “She gained thirty pounds when she ratted me out.”
“Asshole.”
“Shrew.”
“Ooh, you got a new word. You’re getting better at this, Hoppy.”
“Bite me, Speedy.”
“Jesus, how long have you two known each other?” Tate asks, getting to his feet.
“Too long.”
“An hour,” she says, ignoring me. “Although we have met before, but your superstar brother doesn’t remember that.”
“Bitter much? Does it hurt your feelings that I don’t remember you?” I taunt. “Did you bitch at me that night, too? Maybe that’s why I can’t remember you. I blocked out all the nagging. And, actually”—my eyes go to the clock on the wall—“it’s been an hour and a half. The longest hour and a half of my life.”
“Aw, you’re counting our time together, Hoppy. So sweet.”
And, like the grown-up that I am, I flip her off.
“As much fun as this has been—and, trust me, it’s been entertaining—I need to get you down for an X-ray,” Tate says. “Cover up, so you don’t get recognized. But security is down there just in case you need it.”
I sigh.
That’s the part of my life I don’t like—having to hide in public—but it comes with the territory.
I forgo my sunglasses and just put my ball cap back on.
“How long will he be?” Speedy asks Tate.
“Thirty minutes, max.”
“I’ll go move his car. I left it in the drop-off bay.”
“There’s a parking garage just across the street,” I tell her. “You can just leave the keys at the main reception if you want. Save you from coming back up here.”
I don’t want her to go. Even if she is the devil. But I’m not going to ask her to stay.
“I’m not going yet.” She frowns, a cute little pucker forming between her brows.
And I hold back a smile.
“I already told you, I’m here till the bitter end.”