SLEAZE: A Hollywood Comeback Story (Book #1)

Chapter 44

A/N: Hello! I'm leaving my author's note here because I thought y'all should have fair warning that the next two chapters are going to be pretty long, followed by a short one and then back to normal. Won't be updating until next week when I'm back from Vegas. Apologies in advance for any delays in responding to comments but many thanks to all of you who are reading/voting/leaving feedback. <3

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To my enormous relief, my tux arrived on time, as did Michael when he came to pick me up the evening of Armada's party. Unsurprisingly, although I felt like a gangly child playing dress up, Michael looked like he was born to wear a penguin suit... And from the smug grin on his face, he knew it, too.

"Nice haircut," he said, as he stepped into my apartment and my hand instinctively fluttered to my forehead. I rubbed the empty space where hair no longer hung down to my eyebrows. "No, I'm serious. Don't worry," Michael assured me. "It looks good."

"Thanks," I mumbled, still unhappy with how short the barber had clipped my hair. "I feel like this cut makes me look like I have elf ears."

Michael studied the sides of my head and shrugged. "Goblin, maybe."

"Great." I tugged at what was left of my newly shorn strands and willed them to grow quickly.

"I'm kidding," Michael said, elbowing me in the side. "You look a lot older. Sophie'll love it."

"Trust me," I said, sighing, "she'll let me know if she doesn't."

"Should we get going?" Michael asked, motioning towards the door. "I've got a bottle of champagne on ice in the car."

"What'd you rent?" I asked. I reached for my tuxedo's jacket and shrugged it on.

Michael's eyes twinkled with excitement. "A classic 1948 Silver Cloud Rolls-Royce."

"Is that nice?"

Michael shook his head with disbelief. "Too nice for you to appreciate, that's for sure."

I locked my apartment's door and followed Michael to the carport where a regal-looking vintage car stood proudly in the visitor's parking spot. I raised an eyebrow. I was the first to admit that my knowledge of cars was minimal but even I could appreciate that the antique vehicle in my driveway was a beautiful hunk of metal. "Wow," I said, casting Michael an approving look and he beamed as if looking at his firstborn child.

"Pretty good, huh?"

"Yeah, really," I said. "It'll almost look like we fit in when we pull up."

"About that," Michael said, sliding into the backseat of the antique sedan. "Armada apparently wants all the agents and behind-the-scenes folks to go in through a separate entrance."

I stared at him. "You dished out for a car to park in the B-Lister's lot?"

Michael looked embarrassed while he scratched his cheek. "More like the Y-List but, yeah, I did."

I climbed into the car and fought the urge to roll my eyes. "Suddenly I don't feel as bad about not getting him a present."

"No kidding," Michael agreed, reaching for a metal bucket fastened to the floor. Whistling, he produced two glass flutes from a compartment built into the side of the car's door and handed one to me. I took it, rolling the stem between my palms while Michael carefully lifted a bottle from the icy water that he'd left it to chill in.

"That looks expensive," I noted as Michael balanced the bottle on the leather armrest between us and slowly eased off the cork. It released with a loud pop and I watched while bubbles raced upwards, a small tendril of vapor escaping from the bottle's narrow mouth.