Page 3 of Last First Kiss
“Tailed? As in a bodyguard?” Rocco asked, surprised. This was not where he had expected the conversation to go. He thought Paul was going to tell him that the movie was going to be cancelled or maybe he was getting replaced by a less controversial actor, someone who would appease the Colombian people. Someone who’d made more serious films, who wasn’t seen with different women in his arms on every rag, or someone from Colombia who could identify with its people.
But a bodyguard? No, he hadn’t expected that. He wasn’t in any physical danger, the issues were overseas, not in Miami. A bodyguard was overkill.
“Yep,” Paul said, scribbling on a page in his notebook and shutting it closed. “Here.” He took out a business card from his back pocket and slid it over to Rocco. “You have an appointment next week with Iron-Clad Security. They’re going to set you up.”
“I am not going to be tailed for the next four months.”
Paul grinned. “You most certainly are, buddy.”
“Paul . . .”
Paul sat back, crossing his ankle over his knee. “Gonna lay it out for you straight, Rock.” Now this was his best friend talking. Not his agent. And when his best friend laid it out, he knew it would hurt. It was going to be straightforward. No bullshit. “You’re knocking on forty’s door—”
“I’m thirty-fucking-seven, just like you, motherfucker.”
“I’m not on screen,” Paul volleyed. “Every day there’s a new star coming out. A new Brad Pitt. A new Ryan Gosling. The only way of staying current is to push your limits. Right now, you’re not the thirty-year-old heartthrob romance actor. That ship is starting to sail, brother. You’re still doing well because you have loyal fans, but that won’t last forever. We need to get you into serious roles. Look at Bradley Cooper. He went from The Hangover to a bunch of Oscar nods because he chose the right projects. This is the movie, Rock. You know it. And I know it. You were lucky to land this job. The rags are right. This isn’t your kind of role and if you blow it—it’ll be the end of your career.”
“Jesus, man.”
“I’m just telling you like it is. You need to be someone Spelling wants to work with. You can’t be the heartthrob who’s also a diva. Do what’s in your contract or they will find someone who will.”
Rocco thought about this. He knew Paul was right, but it didn’t make it any less difficult to hear. “Fine.”
Paul tapped the table twice and stood. “Good. Put it on your schedule.”
“Fine.” Rocco took out his phone and added it to his calendar.
“You know you’re the only movie star I know who doesn’t have a PA.”
“I don’t need a PA. Have I ever missed a meeting? Been late?”
“Suit yourself, man. Just don’t be late this time. The address is on the card.”
“If the studio is footing the bill, why am I even going?”
“Because I thought you’d want to get a lay of the land, choose your own guy, that sort of shit.”
“Six-five, muscles, black shirt, black pants, and grunts as answers . . . they’re all the same. Who gives a shit which one it is?”
He did not need a bodyguard—he worked out daily, knew how to shoot a gun, and could protect himself if he needed to. What would his fans think of him? The heartthrob who needed a man by his side to protect him? He wasn’t a pussy, damn it, but it didn’t seem like he’d be able to get around this stipulation on the contract.
Rocco was not looking forward to meeting the grunting meathead who was going to live with him for the next four months.
* * *
“Suck my dick,” Annie seethed. She was this close to reaching over the ridiculously huge solid wood conference room table at Iron-Clad Security and wringing her brother Josef Clad’s neck.
At the very least he deserved a good sucker punch.
“Nice, Annie. Very ladylike.”
“I’m not a lady. Stop treating me like one!”
Josef, or Joey as most people called him, sat across from her, his arms crossed over his chest, looking as angry as she felt. But she couldn’t help riling him up further. He was being an asshole, after all.
Jax, Joey’s best friend and part owner of ICS, whispered through clenched teeth as he leaned forward, his big meaty palms on the table “Can you guys cut it out? Rocco Monroe will be here in two minutes. This is the highest-profile client we’ve landed, and I don’t want you two fucking it up for us.”
Joey pinned his dark brown eyes on Annie. “I’d never fuck it up.” He then turned to Jax. “She doesn’t need to be here for this.”
