Hollyweird Read Free

for your PA job.” Then he pointed to the simplistic white flip-phone in my right hand. “That one only connects to the big guy. Don’t call him, he’ll call you.”
    I gulped and stared at the spartan cell like it was a two-headed, albino rat snake. Then my alarm snapped to reverence. A direct line! Damn, but that was cool, even if I couldn’t call him. I stood and tucked a phone in each of my front pockets.
    â€œGuess this is it,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest and not daring to acknowledge my shredded nerves.
    Michael gave me a kind smile. Or was it pitying? “You can do this, Jameson.”
    This being, find out whatever super-secret evil plan the PowerThatBe thinks Dakota is up to, squash it before it can be unleashed, and take him out. No pressure there. I thought I’d schooled my features not to reveal my “yeah, right” doubts, but apparently Michael saw right through that. He chuckled without humor.
    â€œThings will come together, Jameson. They always do.”
    I sure hoped so, but I had to point out one thing that had been gnawing at me. “He doesn’t seem evil,” I said. Annoying? Yeah. Narcissistic? Hell, yeah. Nefarious? Hard to imagine.
    â€œIt’s a façade, Jameson, like so much in Hollywood. Don’t be fooled. Soon you’ll understand why they call L.A. ‘Hell-A.’ And you’ll know exactly why he needs to be eliminated.”
    â€œI’ll take your word for it,” I said as I came to a fierce conclusion. Dakota might just be a meathead or he might be wicked, like Michael said, but it didn’t matter. What mattered was this:
    It was me or him …
    â€¦ and I would be the last man standing.

ALY
    Three months later
    â€œIf you tell, I’ll sentence you to a slow and torturous death. I’ll make the rack en vogue again and I’ll be relentless with the crank. I’ll strap you to a—”
    â€œShut it, Des.” I gave her a playful shove against the wall as we walked down the exit ramp from our plane.
    During the landing, we’d squealed and squirmed in our seats at the breathtaking view of the Pacific ocean and the kitschy-cool, UFO-shaped LAX airport, but just as soon as the flight attendant thanked us, on behalf of Linus the Lynx Kitty, for flying Frontier, Des had gone spazztastic.
    â€œDes, I’ve sworn up and down, even made a blood oath”—I held up my left index finger with its black bandage—“against my will, I might add, that I would not tell Dakota you passed out.”
    However, I’d said nothing about not using it as blackmail material for the rest of our lives. Mwuhaha.
    Desi blasted out a noisy breath. “ ’Kay, I believe you. But I’m wiggin’ out. We’re steps away from meeting him, well, his handler, who handles him, and bo-o-oy would I like to handle him, and it’s just a matter of time before—”
    I yanked her to the side of the tunnel and ignored the other passengers’ curious stares as they went by. By now I was used to getting raised brows from people who compared my Candies and Mudd look to Des’s Hot Topic and Fang fashion, and okay, her black hair with electric blue and cotton-candy pink streaks probably caught a gaze or two. Or maybe it was her industrial ear piercings or lip ring. Blocking out the rubberneckers, I shook her by the shoulders. “Breathe,” I instructed her. I had to get her chill or her nervous nattering would boost my own nerves like a NoDoz chased with an espresso.
    At my shake, Des did an impressive bobblehead imitation before blinking into awareness. “Was I babbling again?”
    â€œLike a brook.”
    Before I could get Des calm and centered, the Wicked Witch of the Midwest swooped down upon us. Now I could feel my cool slipping. Missy was the icky brown crust on my Wonder Bread, the annoying hole in the toe of my rainbow-striped sock, the grody hair in