All Chapters of The Actor's Contract: Chapter 21 - Chapter 30

Date = 7 April (about 4 in the morning) Same night. More frenetic. More painful.Place = San Francisco (24-hour convenience store) Same parking lot.POV - Aria“Fuck, Aria, are you alright?” Mel’s voice is barely a whisper, ragged and wet with tears. “I’m so … SO sorry.”All I can manage is a groan — not the sexy kind. It feels as if my insides have been pushed through a meat grinder. Talking hurts too much.She sniffs hard, swiping her sleeve across her face. It does nothing but smear the tears, blood, and snot into one tragic mess. Her normally pretty profile now looks like she auditioned for The Walking Dead and nailed it.“They took the fucking ice cream!” she sobs.I blink at her. Out of all the things to cry about — the luxury car, the assault, the literal murder threat — she’s fixated on a five-dollar pint of frozen dairy. I’m starting to wonder if pregnancy legitimately reconfigures brain wiring.“We need to call …” She cuts herself off, scanning frantically around us until s

Date = 13 April A week filled with frustration.Place = San Francisco (Inferno) I feel rather caged in.POV – EnriqueFeelings. Real, fucking, ugly feelings. The kind that crawl under your skin like fire ants and decide to build condos in your chest cavity.Frustrated. Angry. Cocked-up. Horny. Agitated. Lost. Confused. On the edge.Basically, I feel like my soul is PMSing.And it’s been like this for days. A festering tornado of emotions I can’t swat away. I know exactly what’s wrong with me. But hell forbid I say the words. The three demonic syllables that shall not be named.But I think I feel them. Hell, I feel something.Could be … love.There, I mentally said it.Still not saying it out loud though. I’d rather eat nails.And as if I needed a little more rage sprinkled on top of my hormonal soufflé, the bastards who hurt Mel and Aria are still out there — free, breathing, living their best psycho lives.Sure, the cops found Mel’s car, but it had been stripped and incinerated in t

Date = 13 April It took a whole week of anxious worry, but the results are out.Place = San Francisco (UCSF Medical Center) I’m spending more time here these days than my sister does.POV – AriaIn my humble and currently unraveling opinion, Mel is way more anxious than she’s letting on. I judge this not by some profound emotional intuition but by the fact that she’s clutching her phone like a crab clings to a rock mid-tsunami. Honestly, if there were an Olympic event for white-knuckle phone-gripping, she’d bring home the gold, silver, and bronze.Her blue eyes are glassy and fixed on some invisible point behind the counter — probably plotting the sluggish nurse’s demise.Said nurse, a walking ad for spray tans and apathy, is typing so slowly it feels like we’ve been here since dial-up internet. Every few seconds, she clicks a key with her artificial acrylic nail and then stares at the screen with her expressionless face, layered with heavy makeup.My tummy hurts. I’m not sure if it

Date = 13 April From one fire into the next. In the same day.Place = San Francisco (UCSF Medical Center) I just need out of here.POV – AriaTrust.If you look it up in a dictionary, it will probably read something like a firm belief in the reliability of someone. A single word that’s difficult to achieve — whether earning it or giving it. And once it’s lost, it’s probably the hardest thing to get back.Trust.It’s like hugging a cactus while balancing on a cliff made of jello. Impossible, stupid, and probably painful.Why is it so hard for me to trust Enrique?Simple. Because I’m in love with him. And that’s a problem. A big, sparkly, glitter-coated, sex-drenched problem.I’m not supposed to catch feelings. This whole thing is fake. But my heart clearly didn’t read the fine print. It went off script, threw the contract into a blender, and decided to fall face-first into Enrique’s arms.Which, by the way, were wrapped around Amanda in a viral I*******m photo this morning.‘A great m

Date = 22 April Another week gone. But it’s like time is standing still.Place = San Francisco (Black Dragon Club) Not my favorite spot.POV - EnriqueFor the second time in merely two weeks, we’re back here again. At the Black Dragon Club. Hopefully, for the last time, since Jackson’s new gig underneath Inferno is almost done.Thank hell, ‘cause I hate this place. It’s truly not my scene.I lean onto the bar next to Damion — who never went back to Qatar. Missing yet another race because of my sister.All the same, Jackson wanted to celebrate their entry into the Stanley Cup by thrashing in skulls. I would rather become shitfaced, but that’s just me.And it’s a thing. Whenever one of us wants to blow off steam (in whatever way needed), we all strive to be there for that person — whether it’s for encouragement, company, protection, or maintaining order — doesn’t matter.It’s one of those unwritten bro-rules we have.Another one is that only one guy out of three is allowed to get offic