Ruined (Barnes Brothers #4)(13)

“No,” JD said, his voice flat. “And you’re not a washed-up has-been. I don’t work with has-beens. I’ve been trying to get you out of that cave of yours for months, but you’ve been dodging me or so drunk off your ass, it’s hard to talk to you.”

Sebastien grunted. “Well, it’s early yet. Call back in a few and I’ll probably be on my ass again.”

He was lying. He’d almost dumped out all the alcohol the day he got back from Trey’s wedding in Virginia, but he hadn’t. Still, he hadn’t had a drink since the few sips of champagne he’d shared with Travis in Vegas. He hadn’t talked to anybody, including Marin, and he wasn’t sure exactly what had set him off, but when he’d gotten into his hotel room, he’d walked into the bathroom and stared at his reflection.

It wasn’t the scar or his messed-up eye that he saw, though.

For some reason, he saw himself the way he might have been at a family thing like this a year ago. He thought of how things had gone after Zach and Abby’s wedding. He’d hooked up with one of Abby’s bridesmaids and they’d tumbled into a hotel room and torn up the sheets for a few hours and he’d left with a smile on his face.

He hadn’t been smiling in Vegas, though.

He hadn’t had that easy, carefree feeling inside him in a long, long time. A year. It didn’t seem like a long time, but the months stretching out between the man he was now and the man he had been seemed like an endless, timeless desert. Only alcohol had dulled the pain, just like the brutal workouts had filled the empty hours between sleeping and drinking.

“I’ve got you on the phone now. Why would I call back?” JD said easily. “So . . . listen. Have you been paying attention to the news? Heard anything interesting lately?”

After racking the bar, Sebastien sat up and focused his eyes on the endless blue of the Pacific outside his windows. He tried to remember the last time he’d turned on his TV or even the radio, the last time he had looked at a blog or anything but his e-mail.

Weeks, at least. More likely, it was going on a couple of months.

“You know, Australia could have been swallowed up by a sea monster and unless somebody came by to tell me? I wouldn’t know,” Sebastien finally said. “I have absolutely no idea what’s going on in the world. I like it that way.”

There was a faint pause, and then JD asked, “You have completely disconnected from life, haven’t you?”

“No reason not to.” Sebastien stood and went to grab his water, draining half of it.

“Maybe that’s how you see it. I can understand, to some extent. But it’s time you come back to life—back into the world, kid. I’ve got a part for you.”

Sebastien was glad he was no longer bench-pressing.

He just might have dropped the bar straight on his chest in shock.

His hand tightened convulsively on the bottle and he stared at the mirrored wall in front of him, his gaze locked on the scarred side of his face. His vision in the left eye was far from perfect, although he could see to some extent. There were dark spots on the outer corners and the only reason he’d even seen a doctor for that was so he could make sure he was still okay to drive. He had to get his eyes checked far more frequently now, but none of that was what bothered him. His eye was just as f*cked up as his face—the blue-green color foggier, duller, and his iris irregular. It was a grotesque shadow of what it had been.

Yeah. He could just see his ugly mug in a movie. What did they want him for? Were they doing another Scarface remake or what?

The very idea appalled him. The water in his bottle was no longer so appealing now. Usually, nights were the worst, when he had to fight the urge to go for the booze in his kitchen, but just then, it took everything he had not to go straight in there and grab a bottle and just empty it.

“No.”

“Sebastien—”

“I said no, JD.” Reaching up, he tapped the earpiece, ending the call.

***

Outside, night had fallen.

Inside, Sebastien was completely unaware. With his eyes on the reels from You Wish You Knew—the romantic comedy he’d been shooting with Marin—he tried to pretend he hadn’t spent half the day thinking about the call from JD.

“I’ve got a part for you—”

A part. The last time he’d heard those words had been almost two years ago. He would have gotten to work on a sequel to the action comedy he’d done with a former wrestler turned actor after . . . His mind shied away from finishing that thought and just went with after. JD had stepped in and handled the production company, although the other costar had come out to visit Sebastien several times, tried to talk him into changing his mind.

He hadn’t had any more luck than anybody else. He’d also been pretty decent about Sebastien’s mouth, too. Especially after Sebastien had called him an *, a sell out, and a few other choice words—he’d just nodded and told Sebastien when he was ready . . . “Give me a call, kid. I’ll be there.”

Sebastien hadn’t called.

Fewer and fewer people called Sebastien and he stopped worrying about it much. Then JD goes and calls.

“I’ve got a part for you.”

The last time Sebastien had stood in front of a camera, it had been for this movie.

You Wish You Knew was trapped in postproduction and would probably stay there.