Changing Roles Read online

  CHANGING ROLES by Melanie Moreland

  Copyright © 2020 Moreland Books Inc.

  Registration # 1166363

  Ebook ISBN # 978-1-988610-30-6

  Print book ISBN # 978-1-988610-31-3

  All rights reserved

  Edited by Lisa Hollett—Silently Correcting Your Grammar

  Photography by Eric David Battershell

  Cover Model—Corey Mortenson

  Cover design by Melissa Ringuette, Monark Design Services

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any

  means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information

  storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

  This book is a work of fiction. The characters, events, and places portrayed in this book are

  products of the author's imagination and are either fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any

  similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Dedication

  This book is for all those

  who love and care for others.

  It is a gift that is never acknowledged enough.

  Regardless of your title or profession,

  we all deserve to be loved simply

  for being our self.

  Thank you for reading.

  Contents

  1. Liam

  2. Liam

  3. Liam

  4. Shelby

  5. Liam

  6. Liam

  7. Liam

  8. Liam

  9. Shelby

  10. Liam

  11. Liam

  12. Liam

  13. Liam

  14. Liam

  15. Liam

  16. Liam

  17. Liam

  18. Liam

  19. Liam

  20. Liam

  21. Liam

  22. Liam

  23. Liam

  24. Liam

  Epilogue

  You really didn’t think the story was over…

  Acknowledgments

  Other books by Melanie Moreland

  About the Author

  1

  Liam

  Familiar scenery sped by, blurred and fast under the streetlights. I relaxed against the plush leather of the limo, grateful to be heading home. I rested my head back, trying to stay calm as thoughts of the rushed escape filtered through my mind. Desperate to get home, I ditched security and everything keeping me in New York and headed for the airport. When the looks of recognition had begun, my anxiety had ramped up, but I concentrated on my goal and got to the gate and on the plane. I had purchased two seats, so I was alone, and no one bothered me. Once we landed, I sprinted through the airport, head down, my breathing returning to normal once the driver pulled away from the terminal and I hadn’t been recognized. It had been a big risk, but I had done it.

  We pulled up to the gates, and my sigh was long and appreciative. I had made it.

  Light spilled out through the windows, shining brightly against the deep black of the night. I glanced at my watch, frowning. It was three o’clock in the morning; why was she still awake? I grabbed the bag beside me, wished Dean a good night and waved the driver away—I was famous, but my arms worked. I was still capable of carrying my own luggage.

  I entered the house, grinning right away at the sound that greeted me. Journey was blaring out of the speakers, which meant only one thing. If eighties music was playing, Shelby was ironing.

  I followed the music to the kitchen and stood in the doorway, smiling at the sight before me. Sure enough, Shelby was in front of the ironing board, her head moving to the music, her socked feet tapping away as she sang in her delightfully awful off-key voice with Steve Perry while she pressed my shirts. My clothes were hanging everywhere—dress shirts, trousers, even my T-shirts, which I told her all the time didn’t need ironing, were done and folded neatly on the table beside her. I had, in fact, told her to use a service to do all this, but she refused, saying it was part of her job.

  I cleared my throat loudly, and she snapped up her head. She beamed widely in greeting as she grabbed the remote and turned down the music.

  “You’re gonna go deaf listening to this bloody shit so loud,” I teased.

  “Already am. At my age, hearing is the first thing to go. And it’s not shit. It’s classic.”

  I rolled my eyes at her; you would think she was twenty years my senior, not five. I stepped forward and kissed her cheek. “Hey, Shelby.”

  “Hi, Liam. You’re home early.”

  “And you’re still awake.” I knew she had problems sleeping when I wasn’t home. She often stayed up late doing mundane chores to pass the time. Her words confirmed my suspicions.

  “Couldn’t sleep.”

  I frowned. “All right there?”

  She nodded. “Yeah, I’m good. Why are you home? Everett never called to say you were coming early.”

  I grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator. I took a long swallow before answering. “Right. Ah, he may not know.”

  She set down the iron, narrowing her eyes. “What did you do now?” She groaned.

  I shook my head. “Nothing! They were idiots, Shelby. The woman interviewing me had no bloody clue. She droned on and on about some crap relating to the economy. I’m an actor, for God’s sake. Not a market manager.”

  Shelby laughed. “But you play one on the big screen.”

  I laughed with her. “Hence the acting thing. Seriously, she kept asking me to talk in different accents, like I was some sort of puppet. And touching me.” I shuddered. “I got tired of dodging her and her stupid questions and walked out.”

  “How did you get home?”

  “I booked a flight, called for a limo, and presto! Here I am.”

  She stepped forward, concerned. “Was everything okay? Were you all right?”

  Her worry touched me. “Yeah. The airline had security walk with me. A crowd got close in the airport, but he pulled me into some hidden hallway, and I stayed calm.”

  “Okay, good.” Shelby sighed then settled her hand on her hip. “That’s the third interview you’ve walked out of this month, Liam.”

  “I’m aware.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Temperamental British actor.”

  “Piss off.”

  Shelby chuckled as I sat down and inhaled deeply, moaning at the delicious aroma that surrounded me.

  “Shelby?”

  “Hmm?”

  “Why do I smell turkey?”

  Her voice was filled with mirth. “Because you were due back tomorrow, and I knew what you’d want when you came home.”

  “Brilliant girl you are. Is it ready?”

  “Yep.”

  “I want one.”

  “Now?”

  “Yeah. In fact, two. I didn’t eat on the plane.”

  “Milk?”

  “Yeah. And a shot of whiskey for after. It’s been a day.”

  “Okay. Go sit on the sofa, and I’ll get it ready.”

  I wandered into the den and sat, enjoying the comfort of the deep, plush cushions. I pulled off my tie, undoing the top button of my shirt, and drawing in a deep breath as I listened to Shelby moving around the kitchen, making me sandwiches.

  Her sandwiches. Bloody hell, I loved her sandwiches.

  The music changed, and I held back a snicker as one of Survivor’s over-the-top ballads came on and Shelby started singing along with it. “The Search Is Over” it was called. She loved all this shit.

  Then I did chuckle. She listened to them so often, I now knew the names of this crap as well.

  But if that mu
sic was playing, it meant she was here, in my house.

  And listening to her in my kitchen, I knew I loved having her around.

  My head fell back against the cushion as I remembered how she came to be a part of my life.

  Liam

  Six Months Ago

  I walked through the doorway and stopped short. “Marie, what the bloody hell are you doing?”

  She stood, looking guilty. “Nothing. Just…laundry.”

  I snorted. “You don’t do laundry. You send it all out to be done. You told me it wasn’t part of your job.” I was quite grateful about that. I didn’t want her touching the clothes I wore.

  “I made an exception.”

  I spied the camera in her hands, and I widened my eyes.

  “Why the hell are you taking a picture of my shorts?” My gaze flew to the computer sitting beside her on the desk and the website open on the screen. “Bloody hell! Are you selling my stuff on the internet?” I gaped at her, pulling my hands through my hair. “Are you daft?”

  Her guilt vanished immediately. “You have plenty. I needed some extra cash.”

  “I have plenty? Extra cash? Jesus Christ! I pay you a bloody fortune to do literally nothing! And those… Those are my underwear—they’re personal!” I roared.

  “Fine. I’ll put them back.”

  “Bloody right, you will.” I shuddered, knowing I would never wear them again. I needed to buy all new ones now. I drew in a deep breath, finding the courage I needed. “You’re fired.”

  “What?” she screeched at me.

  I straightened my shoulders. This was my house. My stuff she was selling. Her employment with me was going to end soon anyway, but I didn’t want to wait anymore. “I said, you’re fired. Pack your stuff, and leave anything of mine behind. You’re not selling any more of my things. Get out—now.”

  “You bastard!”

  “Me? You’re the one selling my stuff—that’s stealing. You’re lucky I don’t press charges.”

  Suddenly, the laptop, which had been sitting on the desk beside my shorts, came flying toward me. I yelped and ducked, watching as it struck the wall behind me, shattering into pieces when it hit the floor. “Blimey, you bitch! That was my laptop!” I yelled.

  The camera followed suit, as well as anything else she could get her hands on. Bobbing and weaving, I ran for the bathroom, locking myself in. Objects hit the door behind me as the whacko I had just fired screamed obscenities at me. Apparently, she didn’t like being sacked. I heard her storm out of the den, and I breathed a sigh of relief before scrambling for my phone in a hurry when I heard the sounds of breaking glass and more yelling coming from down the hall.

  Holy shit, she was going to destroy my house. She might be angry enough to break down the bathroom door. I hadn’t thought this through very well.

  I dialed my manager, Everett, who answered impatiently. “What, Liam? This isn’t a good time.”

  “Fuck, Everett, neither is this. Marie has gone barmy and is destroying my house. I need you here!”

  “Why?”

  “Why?” I echoed. “Because I think she may kill me!”

  “No, you idiot, why has she gone barmy?”

  “I, ah…sacked her.”

  “Crap, Liam, you dipshit. You did what? We agreed I’d handle that while you were away! Five more days—you only had to last five more days. What the hell happened that you couldn’t wait five more days?”

  “She nicked my shorts!” I screamed into the phone. “My boxers, Everett! She was selling them on the internet! I couldn’t let that slide. I sacked her, and now she’s breaking everything in the place!”

  “You never fire someone alone, Liam. You, especially, should never fire anyone. No doubt you cocked it up. What did you say?”

  “Um, you’re fired? Oh, and get out. I think that was about it.”

  “Yep. You cocked it up.”

  “Bugger that—get over here before she burns the place down!”

  “On my way already. Where are you?”

  “Locked in the bathroom.”

  He snorted. “Of course you are.”

  “Oh God. Shit.”

  I looked around in disbelief. How could one woman, especially one fairly small woman, do so much damage in such a short time? Everett had arrived, subdued her, called the cops, and let me know it was safe to come out of my hiding spot. I had opened the bathroom door and exited with as much pride as I could muster, considering I had been hiding from someone half my size. In my defense, I had a movie that started filming soon and I couldn’t have my face mucked up, and the cow had good aim.

  We stood in what was left of my kitchen. Dishes, glasses, and cutlery were smashed and thrown everywhere. A couple of cupboard doors had been torn off their hinges, and even the glass on the table was cracked. I hated that table anyway. I walked into the den and stood in shock. It looked like a tornado had blown through. The biggest insult—my Oscar that was planted in the middle of my beloved flat screen, which was still sparking and smoking. My collection of movies and music had been tossed everywhere, the sofa knocked over with a few cushions torn. My desk was destroyed as well.

  “She didn’t take it very well,” I mumbled.

  Everett snorted. “You could say that.”

  “Maybe I should have offered her a payoff?”

  “It’s called a severance package here, Liam. Maybe you should have walked away and called me to tell me what was going on, and I could have handled this the way we agreed. Professionally.”

  I sighed. “That was another option, I suppose. Certainly not as exciting as this one.”

  “Good thing you’ve been thinking about redecorating.”

  My lips twitched. “Yeah, good thing.”

  His phone rang and he grabbed it, turning away. I walked over to the TV and stared at the Oscar protruding from the center of it, uncertain if I should try to pull it out. I looked around, unsure where the bloody electric was for it and gave up. I heard Everett’s worried voice speaking low into the phone.

  “It’s okay, Shelby. We’ll figure it out. Get on the flight I booked for you, and come to me. I’ll take care of you. Promise.”

  I looked at him curiously. I knew Shelby was his older sister who lived in Sacramento with her husband, Malcolm. Everett wasn’t fond of Malcolm and had no qualms expressing his feelings, but I had never met either of them. Why was his sister coming here? I caught his eye and raised my eyebrow in a silent question, and he shook his head at me

  His voice lowered further. “Don’t cry, Shelby. It’s gonna be fine. I’ll look after you. Don’t worry about that stuff. Your flight gets you here at six, and I’ll be waiting. We’ll figure it out together. The car should be there for you any minute. It is? Okay, good. I’ll see you soon. Love you.”

  He hung up with a sigh and cleared his throat of emotion.

  “Problem?”

  He nodded, his usual jovial face serious. “Big-time. Between the two of you, it’s been quite a day.”

  “Your sister is coming for a visit?”

  “Something like that.”

  I knew not to push. He’d tell me when he was ready. “Okay.” I looked around. “Bugger. I hope Marie didn’t get to my bedroom.” I shuddered, thinking of what she might have done in there.

  He clapped his hand on my shoulder. “Let’s go look.”

  I poured myself a good shot of whiskey. Thank God the bitch hadn’t made it to the living room and the bar. The den, kitchen, and dining room were disasters, although a crew had come in and cleaned the mess away. Things still had to be replaced and fixed. She hadn’t made it to my bedroom either by the time Everett had arrived.

  He had left last night to go pick up his sister, and I hadn’t heard from him again that evening, but he had texted a short time ago to say he was coming over. A few minutes later, he let himself in and helped himself to a glass of whiskey before sitting down heavily across from me.

  “Marie’s been charged with destruction of private
property, and I got a restraining order against her. You said you wanted it kept quiet. She agreed to leave the city and keep her mouth shut if we don’t add theft or any other charges.”

  I nodded. “Yeah, it’s fine. I don’t want the publicity. I just want her gone. I certainly don’t want my stuff back that she touched.” I grimaced into my glass. “She was bloody mental.”

  Everett lifted his eyebrows. “She asked if you’d give her a reference.”

  I gaped. “Not bloody likely, mate. What the hell was Jack thinking when he hired her?”

  “I don’t think Jack was thinking with the head on his shoulders, which is why he got his own ass fired. They were sleeping together, you know.”

  I paused with the glass partway to my mouth. “Well, that explains a lot.”

  Everett nodded. “You should have let me handle it sooner, Liam.”

  I shrugged. “She kept the place clean, and at least there was food in the house. I didn’t think it was that big a deal. I didn’t know she had a business on the side, selling my stuff.”

  He sat back and smirked at me. “Admit it. She scared you.”

  I snorted contemptuously. “No, she didn’t.”

  “You had a deadbolt installed on your bedroom door.”

  I was sure I had seen her in my room one night when I woke up, although she had denied it, insisting I must have been dreaming. I’d had the lock installed immediately.

  “She didn’t… Okay, fuck, she bloody well did. I’m glad she’s gone. I should have listened to you and got rid of her months ago.”