Addicted (The Addicted Series, #1)(56)

"Julian, you know I hate it when you use my name like that," my father replied. Like I gave a shit. "I know it's been a while, son."

"Not long enough, Johnathan. What do you want?"

"I just called to invite you to my wedding."

I closed my eyes, rubbing at my temples. I could feel a splitting headache coming on, and we were only fifteen seconds into the conversation. "What's the slut's name this time, Johnathan?"

My father collected women like I used to collect baseball cards back when he was married to my mother. Of course, right about the time I turned seven, he sent Mom packing, and I never forgave him for that. To top it off, Johnathan could hire the best lawyers in the state, and instead of going with Mom, I had to spend all but a month each year of my time for the next eleven years living with him. I got to watch in person as my father went and got himself married again, this time to a woman almost half his age. She, of course, ditched his ass as soon as possible, taking him for a huge chunk of his money (again).

I will admit, there are some benefits to being Johnathan Castelbon's son. First of all, he has enough money that he could get married twice, get taken to the cleaners twice, and still have enough left over to be listed in the Forbes 400. With that amount of dough, he can afford to let me do pretty much whatever the hell I want. I had a monthly allowance that is bigger than your average household yearly income. When I got my driver's license, the next day I was driving a Lexus. He insisted that I learn on a more reasonable car, I believe is how he said it. By the time I graduated from high school, I'd grown into a Porsche. Now I ride around in a Ferrari, my second.

Thankfully, since turning eighteen, I'd been able to minimize Johnathan's access to my life. He'd by that point realized that trying to bullshit me and buy me off was useless. Of course I didn't stop him from buying me things, but I damn sure wasn't about to make nice with him either. Besides, by that point he was already balls deep in his second wife, Jennifer. That lasted another year, when she divorced him and took off with some dude from Europe. By then though, I'd already had my own share of drama to deal with. "So what's her name, anyway?"

"Sandra. Come on Julian, I've been dating her for over three years." My father sounded slightly hurt, which I loved. It was just about the only emotion I got out of the bastard.

"Hadn't noticed, Johnathan. In case you forgot, I've had some troubles of my own." I reminded him because it seemed for me and my father, the only way we did communicate was when I was getting myself in trouble. Now, I'll admit, starting a fight with Ariana Grande's supposed boyfriend at the Playboy mansion wasn't the best idea in the world. The guy rolled with a posse of five. But I swear, she hit on me. And besides, I held my own for f*ck's sake. How was I to know the tough guy boyfriend would turn out to be a little bitch who insisted on pressing charges?

"Yes, I know. Julian, I don't want to have a fight with you about this. I just wanted to invite you personally, instead of you getting a card in the mail or having my assistant do it. Son, please. I'm asking you as a favor to me. Come to the wedding, Sandra wants to meet you. She already arranged for her daughter to come as well."

Daughter? Hmmmm, this sounded interesting. Maybe there was a way to get my father's attention without also getting another hit on my criminal record. "Okay Johnathan, I'll be there. Have your assistant send me the details. When is it?"

"In two weeks. If you have the time, maybe you could come up a few days early? Sandra said Krystal will be coming up for the whole week before. She's a lovely young woman, Julian."

"I'll see what I can do." I hung up my phone without saying goodbye. I never do. On the bed, the blonde I'd just gotten done with was still looking at me. "What can I say? Family drama."

"Yeah, I know what you mean," the bimbo said in her almost too high pitched little girl voice. She had the body of a sex goddess, but the voice of Minnie Mouse. Seriously, f*cking her was like listening to a hamster on helium. Total one night stand sort of chick. "Family drama is why I moved out here from Iowa."

Iowa? For f*ck's sake. "I'm sure. So . . ." I said, wanting to get out without getting something thrown at me. I've already had to talk my way out of a false rape accusation, and while it was untrue and I prevailed in the end, it's something I'd rather not go through again. I'm no saint, but I am damn sure not a rapist.

"So you said you knew some guys I could talk to about getting a role in TV?" she said, sitting up. "I was kinda hoping you could give me their number."

I grinned in relief. Oh yeah, I had a few boys I could pass this girl around to. "Sure, baby. Hold on." I went over to my jacket and pulled out my wallet, flipping through some of the business cards I kept in there. I found the one I was looking for, a guy who called himself a talent agent named Eric. While Eric could boast to having a few clients who were secondary characters in some decent Hollywood films, most of his clients, especially the female ones, ended up working in the more risqué type of business. In other words, perfect for this Iowa farm girl, bless her heart. Taking out Eric's card, I handed it over to her. "Here you go. Hey, I've gotta get going, there's something I've got to do."

The girl took it and looked at me, and I could see the self-delusion in her eyes. She wasn't the first to look at me that way. It's a blessing, and a curse. "So we can get together another time, right?"