Hollywood Heir (Westerly Billionaire Book 4)

  A sad smile tugged at Eric’s lips. “Water Bear Man isn’t real.”

  Reggie walked over to a table and picked something up. “Real enough that you hate him.”

  Eric nodded. That was undeniable.

  Reggie tossed a wallet at Eric. “You want to be normal. Most superheroes do.”

  Eric shook his head. “You’re crazy.”

  Reggie continued. “Really? Superheroes have family issues. Check. They screw everything up in the beginning. Check. Then, often with the help of a sidekick, they get their shit together.”

  “I’m no one’s hero.”

  “Classic trope.”

  Eric rubbed a hand over his forehead. “And what is my power?”

  Without missing a beat, Reggie said, “You inspire people. Water Bear Man is fucking ridiculous, often the butt of jokes from other comic heroes. No one respects him, but he doesn’t let that stop him from doing what’s right. He gets knocked down, but he always gets back up. That’s why my kids love him. You can hate him for robbing you of whatever the hell life you think would have been better than the one you have, or you can learn to control your gift instead of letting it control you.”

  Eric scanned the room again. “By doing what? Living a double life?”

  Reggie made a face. “Triple. Technically, you still have to be Eric Westerly, or someone will accuse me of killing him off.”

  The idea sounded insane—and then so, so tempting. He’d felt trapped in his life, but having a documented second identity would allow him to escape when he needed to breathe. He opened the wallet in his hand. There was a license with his face on it, scar and all, with a name beside it. “Tim Toadhill?”

  “I didn’t know you’d pick your own name. I’ll have it all changed to Wayne Easton.” He tossed a flip phone to Eric. “I’ll put this under Wayne as well.”

  Eric returned to the changing area and placed the phone down in front of Wayne’s wardrobe. He removed his scar and changed into a silk shirt and trousers. Reggie handed him his top-of-the-line smartphone. “So I guess this makes you Alfred, my butler?” Eric asked as he pocketed the phone.

  “Fuck you,” Reggie said, but he smiled. “I’m an independent electrician. Hand me your coat and I’ll stuff it down your throat.”

  Eric laughed, and Reggie joined in. It was a moment of true friendship that reminded Eric of something he’d said to Sage. He’d told her he didn’t trust anyone beyond Reggie. That might have been true at one time, but it wasn’t anymore. He also had his sister Rachelle. She didn’t know about his secret identity, though.

  It’s better to keep some things a secret.

  Eric’s smile faded as he imagined trying to explain not two but three separate identities to Sage. He’d once doubted her mental stability, but he was now certain he couldn’t defend his own. A thought came to him, and he said, “I’m surprised you didn’t make a section for my costume.”

  Reggie walked over to the wall and flipped a light switch. A panel slid upward, revealing his Water Bear Man costume, hanging just as it did in his movies. Eric laughed again. “This is absolutely nuts, you know that, right?”

  “Alice prefers the term eccentric.”

  “You told your wife, too?”

  “Of course I did. Enjoy lying and keeping secrets while you’re single. Once you’re married, there’s no hiding anything.”

  Although it wasn’t meant to, that sounded pretty damn good to Eric. Even as he stood in his secret lair, he couldn’t stop thinking about the one woman he wished he could show it to.

  Across town, dressed in a cotton pajama set, Sage poured another glass of wine for her similarly clad friend. Normally she would have gathered the dishes from the coffee table and rinsed them before bed, but it could all wait until morning—at least, that was what her buzz assured her.

  Bella had just finished describing her latest case—a sad and brutal cautionary tale that would have been a mood killer if Sage hadn’t balanced it with alcohol. Her heart broke for Bella when she spoke of the unimaginable as if it were the norm.

  Sage wasn’t blind to the ugly side of humanity. No one with a television could be, but she didn’t want to live her life looking at every person she encountered through that lens.

  She knew to be aware when she walked alone.

  She kept her doors locked even during the day.

  None of her clients knew where she lived.

  In her opinion, there was a gray area between being careful and being paranoid. She liked to think that was where she resided.

  “Feel like watching a movie?” Sage asked.

  Bella took a sip of wine before answering. “Whose turn is it to choose?”

  “Mine,” Sage answered with a huge smile. “But I’ll be kind.”

  “Please, no sappy angel movies.”

  “Hey, I sat through the documentary on bee colonies.” Sage tossed a crumpled napkin at her friend.

  “And you’re a better person for it.”

  “Definitely, but you could benefit from something with a happy ending tonight.”

  “You’re probably right. Bring it on,” Bella said with a wave of her hand.

  Sage picked up the remote and began to flip through the available movie categories. She paused over the action/sci-fi section and clicked on one of the titles. Unless she was shitfaced and imagining things, Wayne Easton looked an awful lot like Water Bear Man.

  “Oh God, no,” Bella said with a groan. “Anything but those movies. Could you pick something at least loosely based in reality?”

  Disregarding her friend’s request, Sage played the trailer. Water Bear Man, in his tight gray spandex costume, stopped in the middle of fighting an alien creature to pose for a child with a camera. He stood with his feet apart, his hands on his hips, and his powerful chest puffed out. Sage froze the image. “Bella, is it the wine or does he look like Wayne?”

  “They say everyone has a doppelgänger.” Bella smiled. “But probably the wine.”

  “I’m serious, Bella. Look at his face.”

  Bella put down her wine and did for a moment. “Hang on a minute.” With a frown, she pulled out her phone and opened her photos, then held up the photo she’d taken of Wayne. “Outside of the scar, yes. They could be twins.”

  Sage returned to studying the face on the screen. “What’s the actor’s name?” She read the information below the title. “Eric Westerly. Westerly. Is he related to the Delinda Westerly my mom wanted me to help?”

  “He’s her grandson. Wait, you didn’t tell me Delinda Westerly was the woman you turned down. Hell, I would have gone in your place.”

  “Really? Why?” Like her, Bella was not usually impressed by money. “I don’t watch a lot of television.”

  “She’s not on television, that’s how powerful she is. Her family is an American dynasty and the closest they have to royalty—which is probably why one of her grandchildren married a prince and she has a king courting her.”

  “Since when do you care about titles?”

  Bella’s face flushed. “It’s not like that.” She picked up her glass of wine again. “What’s your fantasy version of yourself? Wings with a magic wand? Well, for me it would be to be Delinda Westerly for a day. To know the kind of people she does. Just for a second, imagine that no one in the world is off-limits to you. Think of all the interesting people you’d meet, the conversations you’d have, the difference you could make.”

  “You make a difference already.” Sage threw another napkin at Bella. “And I don’t dream of having wings.” She smiled and conceded, “Although I would love a wand.”

  Bella volleyed the napkin back with playful force. “No wand for you. You’re dangerous enough as you are.”

  Sage leaned over and hugged her friend, jostling her arm. “And you don’t need to meet world leaders to make an impact. You make a difference every single day just by being you. I love you.”

  “And I love you.” Bella patted her shirt where the wine had splashed, then pu
t her now-empty glass down. “Even though I’m now sitting in wine-soaked pajamas.”

  Sage grinned. “Sorry.”

  Bella chuckled and stood. “Luckily we’re the same size. Mind if I go change?”

  “Mi closet es su closet.”

  Bella took another look at the man on the screen. “He does look an awful lot like your friend at the coffee shop.”

  “I know, right?”

  “Wayne Easton. Eric Westerly. Delinda Westerly. Weird. It feels like a puzzle I should be able to figure out. Hey, I didn’t tell you yet, but I had my friend run a quick background check on Wayne after we spoke earlier. He couldn’t find anyone by that name who fit his description. Are you sure that’s his name?”

  “I didn’t check an ID, but that’s what he said.”

  “Maybe none of this is related, but my gut tells me I’m missing something obvious.”

  “Your gut? Is that like my radar? Or are you drunk?”

  “I don’t get drunk.” Bella wagged a finger at Sage and said, “I’ll be right back. Save some wine for me. The answers might be in the bottom of that bottle.”

  Wanting to continue the conversation, Sage wobbled after her friend to her room and spoke to her from the doorway while she changed. “The last time I saw him, Wayne did say something odd. He told me not to trust him.”

  While buttoning up a clean nightshirt, Bella froze. “Don’t see him again, Sage. I know you think I’m paranoid, but people don’t say that shit unless there’s a reason to. He’s hiding something, and that’s never good.”

  Sage crossed her arms in front of her. “You and I look at puzzles differently, Bella. I don’t fear what I don’t know.”

  Bella finished getting dressed, then went to join Sage at the door. “And that’s exactly why I worry.”

  Chapter Seven

  The next morning Eric woke in his ornate, king-size canopy bed. It, along with the other gilded antiques in the room, had been Reggie’s idea of a joke. Eric hadn’t cared enough to meet with the decorators, and Reggie had warned him that if he didn’t, he would.

  The room didn’t embarrass Eric, but neither was he proud of it. He cared as little about it as he did the massive estate it was part of. They were just things. He’d originally bought the place because it had been in a sad state of disrepair and he’d considered it a shame to let such a building be lost to future generations. Restoring it hadn’t brought him the joy he thought it would. He didn’t care about things.

  Eric pulled himself out of bed and trudged to the bathroom that was the size of his apartment. It had been renovated, along with the rest of that wing, in Reggie’s tongue-in-cheek, tacky style. Eric suspected that Reggie pushed the envelope at times because he was seeking a reaction. He didn’t get one. Eric honestly didn’t care.

  In reality, his secret lair was the only material possession Eric could remember getting excited about. Creating it had probably cost less than his last car, but it was perfect—simply perfect. The placement of it on his land would allow him to come and go away from the eyes of the house staff. Even though they’d signed NDAs, that didn’t mean he could trust them to not let a photo slip out to the press. No, this was best kept to himself.

  The more he thought about it, the more his mood improved. He could literally be Eric in the morning, Wayne during the day, and Eric again if there was a need. Reggie had given him something he’d yearned for but hadn’t figured out how to achieve—his freedom.

  That realization brought a smile to his face while he showered and dressed. The day didn’t loom before him as it normally did. Instead, it felt full of potential. He paused by a table in his room. The night before, he had placed his smartphone and flip phone side by side. He picked both up, weighing them in his hands, and decided to keep both with him that day. He didn’t have to choose.

  He walked out of his suite down to the main part of his home with a bounce in his step. He greeted his staff as he came across them. None seemed sure how to respond. He thought of all the times he’d walked by them, more irritated by their presence than grateful for their help. He’d previously viewed them merely as necessary to maintaining the estate, but now he saw them as people. Did they enjoy working for him? Did they have families? Where did they live?

  He felt a wave of shame that he didn’t know anything about them.

  His smartphone rang. On any other day, he would have let it ring through to his messages, but he felt better than he had in a long, long time. “Hello.”

  “Eric, oh my God, I can’t believe you picked up,” his sister Rachelle said in rushed relief. “Where are you?”

  “At my house.” He continued to the kitchen and popped his head in. There was a clatter of pans being dropped and a sudden silence. “Hang on, Rachelle. Morning, everyone.” He spoke to the openmouthed kitchen staff. “Would you mind whipping me up some eggs and toast? I’ll take it on the back patio. And coffee. I’d love a coffee.”

  “Of course, sir,” one woman said.

  Eric had begun to close the door but stopped. “What’s your name?”

  The woman’s face reddened, and she suddenly looked nervous. “Mrs. Carn.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Carn,” Eric said.

  “Y-you’re welcome,” she answered.

  Pleased with the exchange, Eric headed toward the patio. “Sorry, Rachelle. That was important. I’m starving.”

  “You sound happy this morning.”

  He paused before answering. Yes. “I am. I’ve made some changes in my life, and they’re beginning to jell.”

  “That’s fabulous. Anything you can talk about?”

  “No,” he said out of habit, then realized he didn’t have to be that person anymore, either. This was Rachelle, the family member who had found him at his lowest point. Part of his recovery was staying honest with himself and with those who loved him. Hiding from them, withdrawing into himself, had led him to a dark place he never wanted to return to. He’d like to pretend that part of his life had never happened, but he needed it as a reminder not to repeat it. “Yes. I’ve been living like a man with his back to the wall. I couldn’t walk away from my career because it supports too many people. I felt trapped.”

  “But now?”

  “Now I see I have options. It doesn’t have to be all or nothing. With a little juggling, there just might be room for what I want as well.”

  “That is so great, Eric. You have no idea how good it is to hear you like this.”

  Eric threw the doors to the patio open and took a deep breath. The air was fresher. Every color in the garden was brighter. “And I met someone.”

  “Really?”

  “She’s amazing. Bold, sweet, quirky. Just thinking about her makes me smile.”

  “Eric, I’m so happy for you.”

  “Things are a little rocky right now, but they’re about to get a hell of a lot better. I understand how she and I could work now. It’s doesn’t have to be full disclosure versus lies. There’s always a third option.” Standing in the bright morning sunshine, Eric felt young and alive. Invincible. “I’m creating my own third option.”

  “Eric, what are you talking about?”

  “Water Bear Man will do appearances again. So will Eric Westerly.” He left off Wayne Easton. Secret identities were best kept—well, secret.

  “Should I worry that you’re talking about yourself in the third person?”

  “Maybe.” Eric chuckled. “Does Vandorra have another cause that would benefit from some publicity?”

  “Well, the children’s hospital would love to have you back. Finn asks about you constantly. His heart transplant went well, and he’s home, but it has been a tough road for him.”

  “What about Tinsley?” Eric asked, remembering the little girl with huge blue eyes and big dreams of visiting Disney. “Did she—did she go?”

  “Not yet, but the doctors say soon.”

  Eric blinked back a tear at the memory of that little girl. He credited that visit to the children’s hosp
ital as the catalyst for realizing he needed to make changes in his life. He hadn’t realized until then how truly low he’d sunk. Had he not met the kids and done some serious self-reflection afterward, he probably would have refused to go to the clinic. He might already be dead. He owed those children, as well as Rachelle and her husband, more than he could ever repay. “I know you have it covered, but tell me when you know the date she’ll be going home. I have friends who can add even more magic to the trip. Also, send me a date that works for another visit and I’ll be there—in costume.”

  “Oh, they would love that, Eric. The children adore you. Magnus will be pleased as well. He was worried because you weren’t returning his calls lately.”

  “I needed time to figure a few things out, but tell him I’ll ring him this week.”

  “He’d like that.” Rachelle cleared her throat. “I hate to even ask, but have you seen Grandmother?”

  One of his staff hovered near the door with a tray. Eric waved for the woman to set it down on the table beside him. After she did so, Eric said, “Hang on, Rachelle. What’s your name?”

  In a quiet voice the woman said, “Mia Taylor.”

  “Thank you, Mia.”

  “Is there anything else you’d like?” she asked.

  Eric looked the tray over then smiled at her. “No, it all looks perfect.”

  She withdrew.

  Eric sat, placed the phone on speaker, and set it down on the table. He poured himself a cup of coffee. “Rachelle, what did you think of my staff? They seem pretty awesome.”

  She laughed softly. “They were wonderful.”

  “I should give them all a raise.”

  “Do you know how much you presently pay them?”

  “No. Good point. I’ll start there. Reggie manages all that. I’ll ask him.”

  “How is Reggie?” The affection in Rachelle’s voice rang sincere.

  “Same as ever. I don’t know what I’d do without him.”

  “He’s a good friend.”