Cash (Hawthorne Brothers Romance) Read Free Page A

pretentious, but hearing the same butchered story over and over got a little old.
    We stayed for about ten minutes, taking pictures, signing autographs, and even signing one portly woman’s breast, which was definitely a first for me. Some of the others looked at me laughing, like it was my initiation or something, but it was soon over and we waved goodbye before walking away.
    “Man, what a shit fest,” Garret, who played one of the villains, said.
    “Be nice, they’re the reason you have a paycheck,” Rosa, one of the female agents, said.
    “We’re done for the day, guys,” a producer said as we walked back up to the set.
    “Beautiful, have a good day, guys,” Garret said before walking back to his trailer.
    I looked at my phone, seeing it was getting late, as I still had to get home and change before going out and picking up Charlie. My trailer, my home on set, was filled to the brim with everything a breakout star could need. I walked inside and gathered up my things to take home. I could almost just live here on set, if the thing only had a bigger bathroom and bed. Maybe if we had another movie I could negotiate that into my contract.
    The studio executives insisted on me having a driver to and from set, mostly for insurance reasons. It wasn’t that they didn’t trust me driving, but I guess if something did happen they could hold the driver and his company responsible, which I didn’t necessarily think was right, but I had no input in the matter.
    “How are you this evening, Mr. Hawthorne?” Harry, my driver, asked.
    “I’m doing well, Harry, and how about yourself?” I asked, sliding into the black leather interior.
    “Doing just fine, thank you,” he said before shutting the door.
    Harry, bless his heart, was about seventy-five and still kicking life’s ass. A retired Marine veteran, he started a small carpet business years ago before selling it to some chain home goods conglomerate that completely changed everything about his business. I wasn’t entirely sure why he drove this limo; I thought he just wanted something to do, and he told me once he’d always had a love for cars. I guess whatever makes you happy in life.
    I scrolled through my phone during the car ride home as I melted off the stresses of learning lines and sitting on set, instead perusing my Instagram feed, being constantly bombarded by fans on my pictures. It was sometimes hard, always seeing people asking for this or wanting that, but I tried not to let it get to me. I was always going to have bad fans who screamed the loudest, but I couldn’t forget that there were tons more who were great who maybe didn’t talk at all. I couldn’t forget they were there supporting me, no matter how annoyed I might get with the others.
    Luckily there were no paparazzi, at least that I saw, outside the gates to my house, unlike three days ago when four were out there waiting for me. I guess I could understand a person’s fascination with a celebrity, but getting pictures of me taking out the trash for a magazine? Really? Was that where we, as a society, were at? I tried not to even read them, but when my mom would send me a tabloid picture I couldn’t help but be exposed to it.
    “Thanks, Harry,” I said as I got out of the car.
    “Have a nice night, Mr. Hawthorne. I’ll see you tomorrow,” he said before pulling away.
    I wiggled the key in the lock and quickly turned off the alarm as it chirped after I opened the door. You could never be too safe these days, what with crazed fans jumping gates because God told them we were supposed to get married and all. I heard that Matt Jones, from those new wizard movies, came home to a middle-aged woman naked in his bed just the other week. 
    I took a quick shower, the spa-like glass cube with river rocks for a floor and twelve water jets spraying off any little bits of makeup and sweat that my body had to carry for the entire day. My dad always called it “liquid sleep” growing up, saying