Page 5 of Reckless
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” comes Seth’s voice. “You’re going to ruin your first day back before we even get there.”
I ignore him. Seth may have worked for me as long as I’ve had the GT-R, but his words of caution generally go in one ear and out the other. To his eternal frustration, I do what I damn well please—most of the time to my own detriment.
Eighty-five.
Ninety.
Ninety-five.
My hands grow slick on the steering wheel as the engine purrs underneath the hood. Adrenaline spikes, flooding my system with sweet euphoria. We glide along the empty road like a phantom on the wind. It almost makes having to go back to work bearable.
Almost.
“C’mon, Griff,” Seth complains, “don’t be a dick. Slow down.”
“Don’t be a killjoy. It’s about time I let this baby fly.”
“You’re gonna let it fly right into a guard rail.”
One hundred.
One hundred and five.
“I wouldn’t do that. This was the first thing I bought after my first film. Cost nearly three years’ salary as a Marine. I’d never—”
A shrill chirp cuts me off, and flashing lights fill my rearview.
“Oh great,” Seth says. “I can’t wait to see this on my feed. Hollywood superstar Griffin McNalley—arrested. Your new publicist will love that.”
I roll my eyes to myself as I retrieve my license, registration, and proof of insurance. The officer taps on my window, and I roll it down with a sigh. “Good morning, Officer,” I say mildly.
“Do you have any idea how fast you were going?”
Not fast enough.
Not nearly fast enough.
Twenty minutes, an autograph, and two hefty fines later, we’re back on the road—at a much more reasonable speed. L.A. looms in the distance, and I can’t help but wish I could turn around and hide away forever. If only the guys on my team could see me now. I’d never live it down. It’d be even worse than when they learned I was going to act in movies. Their nickname for me, Hollywood, will probably be etched on my gravestone.
“Oh, look,” Seth says cheerfully. “You’re already trending.”
He flashes his screen at me, and I see blurry shots from the traffic stop with captions like, “OMG! I totally saw Griffin get pulled over on my way to work. I hope he isn’t in trouble!” emblazoned underneath.
“So much for keeping a low profile,” I say under my breath. “If you say I told you so, I really will fire your ass.”
Seth—to his credit—keeps his mouth shut for once.
At least until we get to Los Angeles.
* * *
“I’ve had it up to here with you, McNalley. Do you hear me? One more stunt like this, and we’ll replace you. I don’t care what Oswald wants.” Theodore Brown frowns at me from behind his expansive desk. I’m surprised he can speak, considering how hard his teeth are clamped together. It’d be a shame to ruin all that expensive dental work. Seriously, I’ve never seen teeth so white. How these California types get anything done when they spend so much time on grooming always amazes me.
Oswald doesn’t flinch at the mention of his name. His stoic presence hovers at the edge of my vision like a specter, so still and silent I’ve forgotten he’s there until Theo mentions his name again. He reminds me of a younger Harrison Ford, but more severe and less forgiving.
To Theo, I say, “I’ll take care of it. It’s only a speeding ticket.” It’s hard for me to give the ticket a shred of my concern. After you’ve been shot at, held dying friends in your arms, and still lived to see another day, everything else seems trivial.
Theo gives me a hard smile. “Not for you. A speeding ticket means press. It means throwing your name back in the public eye—and not even for positive reasons, like the new movie you’re starring in, but for stupid reasons, like joy riding. After what happened last year, do you really think this is how you want to launch yourself—and this film—into the limelight? Mistakes like this won’t be tolerated again. If you screw up one more time, you’re toast. Theonlyreason why we’re keeping you around is because of him.” He stabs a finger in Oswald’s direction. “Do you understand me?”