Total Trainwreck Read Free

doorway.
    “No you won’t.” I wave over my shoulder and don’t even bother to look. Once I’m safely out of sight, I leap into the air and spin around, happy-dancing my ass all the way to Spence’s office. Finally, this day is looking up.
    I’m fumbling with Spence’s printer when he joins me in his office.
    “Did she take the hint?” I ask, an eager smile curving my lips.
    “That bitch, I have not missed in the slightest,” he says with an upturned nose.
    “Must be a hardship having so many groupies. Poor Spence.” I throw a pity party for him, sighing and frowning like his life sucks. He narrows his eyes, lands a soft punch on my shoulder and grins. “How the hell does this damn thing work?” For the life of me I cannot figure out how to get Spence’s printer to connect with my phone.
    “Let me,” he says, waving me from his leather office chair. “You’re not connected to the Wi-Fi.”
    I shrug and leave it in his capable hands. Below, a car pulls into Spence’s driveway. I walk to the window and watch Jessica pour herself into a cab, coffee cup in hand. “Fuck you very much,” I say in a sickeningly sweet voice, and give her my best beauty queen wave. Serves her right.
    The printer roars to life and starts shooting out pages like popcorn.
    “Carly.” Spence’s voice is weirdly chastising. “Twenty million plus a share of foreign and domestic royalties?” He scans the document, brow pulled tight.
    “Is that bad?” I ask. He snorts in disbelief.
    “You realize this will make you one of the highest-paid actresses in Hollywood? When this contract goes public it’s going to be a huge story.”
    I shrug. “Good. Maybe it will drown out all the bad press from last night.” I roll my eyes and sink into a chair. Last night. Ugh. Fuck my life. Just when I have successfully forgotten about Devon for five minutes, he finds a way to creep back in. Asshole.
    “Who’s your money manager?” he asks, bringing a pen and several pages for me to sign.
    “Money manager?” I give him an are-you-for-real smirk.
    “Right.” He grimaces and points to the first line for me to sign. “Wait. Have you read this?”
    “Jerrie did,” I say, putting pen to paper. “I don’t understand it, but I trust her.” Spence purses his lips, but says nothing.
    “Let me help you, Carly,” he says, pointing to another line on the second page. “You are about to be a very rich lady once again. You can’t tuck money like this in your panty drawer. You have to invest it.”
    “Last time my money was invested it wound up inside my mother’s plastic body and my dad’s junkie veins.”
    “Even more reason. There are ways to invest it where they couldn’t get a dime if you ran over them with a car on purpose.”
    “I like the sound of that!” I smile, signing the final page.
    “I’ll set something up, and I’ll have my assistant fax this over first thing.” Spence collects the papers, slides them into an empty leather folio and tucks it under his arm.
    “Can you give me a ride home?” I ask. Not that I particularly want to go. There’s yet another shit storm waiting there to stink up my life. The old me would run from it. The new me can’t.
    “Sure.” Spence looks me over with a frown. “Not that it bothers me at all...” He pauses. “But shouldn’t a fabulous, highly paid actress probably put on some clothes before she goes out in public?”
    I look down at the sand-and-saltwater-stained T-shirt I’m swimming in. Right.

Chapter Three
    I feel all sorts of Carrie Bradshaw walk-of-shame sexy in Spence’s crisp white button-down. It’s stylishly cinched at the waist with a thin black belt. I’m missing the unruly pillow-tousled hair and sex-sated glow. But the top is down on Spence’s steel-gray vintage Spyder, which totally makes up for it. We swerve through traffic, pop over the hills and slide down into the sunshine-soaked valley.
    “I assume you’ll be moving soon?” Spence asks, pulling