“Only America?” He laughed, his newly cropped fuzzy head tickling at the skin below my jaw as he nuzzled into my neck.
“You’re pushing it, George,” I warned, my stern voice giving way to giggles that broke free as he pushed me up against the bathroom door.
“Only America?” he insisted, raising my hands and holding them over my head.
“Okay, the Americas. North and South combined.” I bumped my hips into his as he pressed into me.
“Speaking of south,” he breathed into my ear, one hand slipping slowly beneath my . . .
Ding dong.
“Who the hell is that?” he muttered, keeping me pushed against the door, hand continuing its path toward my . . .
Ding dong. Ding dong.
“It might be Michael. He said he might stop by tonight.” I slid out from in between Jack’s body and the door and looked at myself in the mirror. Rumpled, flushed, happy.
“Bloody Michael,” he grumbled, grabbing for me as I made for the door.
“Bloody nothing. You two are friends now. Behave yourself.” I laughed, dancing away from his grab as I headed out into the hallway and toward the front door.
“Finishing this later!” he called after me, and my heart skipped a little.
“I’ll hold you to that,” I called back, thinking of all the ways he could and would finish this. And how I would most certainly let him. Since Jack and I had started seeing each other last year, the chemistry between us had been and remained off the charts. He’d finish it. He’d finish me right off a cliff.
I laughed as I heard him groan, knowing he was adjusting himself not so discreetly now. I straightened myself up a bit, then opened the door to see my friend Michael smiling back at me.
“Sure took you long enough,” he chided.
“I was detained.” I gestured for him to come in as he looked at my feet and laughed.
“You look like the missing link. Something you want to tell me?” He pointed down.
I looked and noticed I had clumps of Jack’s hair between my polished toes.
“Ah, well, haircut gone bad,” I explained, waving him inside as I went to the kitchen to get a broom. I had left a trail.
“Haircut gone great, you mean,” Jack corrected, coming into the kitchen and running his hand over his head.
“Wow, what happened to you?” Michael chuckled, brown eyes full of mischief.
Michael and I had gone to college with Holly and had been friends for years. Well, we had been friends, until a one-night stand clouded everything that had been good and made it ugly. We didn’t speak for years, and then through a series of coincidences, he ended up casting me in his new musical a few months ago. This time another near miss of a one-night stand had almost ruined everything, but we came to our senses and remained great friends.
And more. While the musical we had worked on together in New York didn’t go anywhere, there was enough interest in the project to keep it alive in a new way. Right after the holidays we found out that there was a production company interested in developing it into a TV show. In the vein of HBO and Showtime, Venue was the new cable channel everyone was watching. Edgy comedies, dark dramas—their TV lineup was making a lot of waves. We brought a few of the original cast in from New York, shot a quick pilot, and Venue bought it. And they were putting Michael’s new show right in the middle of their fall lineup.
Michael’s original concept was a traditional musical, with a modern twist. Staged workshop style, we had worked with a live band. Now the story of Mabel, an aging beauty queen going through a divorce and redefining her life on her own terms, was set against the backdrop of Los Angeles—a perfect town for reflecting back the warped way our culture views women and aging. The show was now a cross between Glee, The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills, and Sex and the City. It was witty, it was sexy, and I was the star. Wait, I was the star?
Yes, Grace, you are the star.
I shook my head to clear it, still waiting for the other shoe to drop.
“You got water in your ear, love?” Jack asked me, watching me shake my head.
“Shut it, you,” I warned as he gave my behind a pat on his way to the fridge. I settled on a bar stool and watched two of my favorite people in the world circle each other. It was true: they were friends now but tentatively. Jack knew Michael and I had almost, well, almost while I was in New York. And while Michael and I were friends and only friends, I knew it was tough for Jack. But true to form, he was more of a grown-up than I was, even nine years my junior. And they were now easing into this weird guy friendship.
“No seriously, man, what’s with the skin?” Michael asked again, catching the beer Jack threw at him. Without asking. Again, weird guy thing.
“Movie. I start shooting next week. Couldn’t put it off any longer,” Jack explained, taking a long pull on his beer.
“That’s right, the new Daniel Richards picture. Afghanistan? There’s some great buzz about that already. A writer friend of mine consulted on it. Looks like it’s gonna be intense. You’re shooting out in the Mojave, right?”
“Yeah, we’re doing some here, then out to the desert. Should be a good time.” Jack smiled, tipping back his bottle and draining it. Grabbing another from the fridge, he sat down on the bar stool across from me, still rubbing his head absently.
“What’s a good time?” I heard a new voice from the hall chime in, with heels clicking on the floor. My other favorite person in the world.
Holly came into the kitchen, appraised the crew assembled, and sighed dramatically. She nodded to me. “Asshead,”
“Dillweed.” I nodded back, pointing to the bottle of vodka I had removed from the freezer and raising an eyebrow in her direction.
“Yes. God, yes. You would not believe the day I had. I hate this town! Remind me never to work with anyone who used to be on the CW ever again,” she cried.
I busied myself making dirty martinis. Holly pulled herself onto the counter, kicked off her heels, and put her feet in Michael’s lap, pointing at them.
“Rub. And you, Buzzy, get behind me. Work on these shoulders,” she instructed, gesturing Jack over. With a grin he obliged, and Michael’s surprised face gave over to sheepish as he began working on Holly’s heels. Stacked like a porn star, Holly’s natural good looks tended to make all men a little gooey around her, present company included. I handed her the cocktail, grimacing as she sucked it back quickly, presenting me with an empty glass.
“Seriously, fruitcake, it was a dilly of a day. I’m gonna need a double. And harder, please, Michael.” She moaned as he hit a spot in the middle of her instep. I laughed as she began to tell us about her day, and I made her another cocktail. I caught Jack’s eye over Holly’s shoulder, and he winked at me.
Life was good.
An impromptu dinner party ensued, and after dinner was over, we all ended up on the cushiony chairs in the backyard. Winter in Los Angeles was chilly at nighttime, at least enough that the cashmere throws I brought out were necessary. Snuggled into a large love seat, Jack played with my hair as we laughed and chatted with our friends. Strings of white lights dotted the fig and plum trees out back, and the potted lemon trees that framed the patio threw off their fragrance into the night. I leaned into Jack’s warmth, his breath heady and thick with brandy as he and Holly went back and forth about his shooting schedule. He’d be leaving in a few weeks, but this was different from when we’d been apart in the past. This time I got to stay here, in my home that I’d worked so hard on and barely gotten to enjoy before heading off to New York. Now I was able to work where I lived, and I relished my surroundings.
I had created a space for myself exactly the way I wanted. Built into the hillsides of Los Angeles there were certainly bigger and grander homes, but my Laurel Canyon bungalow was exactly what I wanted. And having Jack move into it with me? Well, that made it all the more homey.
As Holly and Jack got louder and louder, trying to hammer down some interview she had planned for him
, I leaned across to Michael.
“You still looking to rent a new place?”
“Yep, the corporate housing has been fine, but now that I’m setting down some roots I think I want something a bit more distinct. This agent I have, though, is showing me all these rentals on Wilshire—in the corridor, all those high-rises. They’re great, but I just left New York. I’d like something a little closer to the ground.”
“I can see that. Roots, hmm . . . Do you want to buy? Great time to buy,” I prodded.
“Not quite that rooty. I still want to rent. I want rental roots,” he answered, causing Holly to stop midstream in her conversation with Jack.
“I’ve got a great rental agent. I’ll have her send over some listings. You want a house? Pool? Standard L.A. bachelor pad?”
“House, yes. Pool, perhaps. Bachelor pad, no. No neon.” He grinned.
“I can totally find you that. I’ll go with you to look at houses next week if you want,” she offered, sipping at her brandy.
“That’d be great. You sure you have time?”
I snuggled closer to Jack.
“Of course. I can take an afternoon off. The business will still be there. And speaking of business, Jack, we need to talk about—”
“Holly, don’t you ever quit? Enough for tonight, okay?” Jack snapped, surprising us all. We turned to look at him as he ran his hands through his nonexistent hair. He sighed, then gulped the rest of his brandy. With heavy eyes, he looked at Holly.
“Sorry. I think I’m just tired,” he muttered, eyes falling back down to his glass.
“No worries, Jack. We can talk tomorrow. Call me in the morning?” she asked, pushing herself out of her chair with a quick glance at me.
I shrugged my shoulders and stood as well. “You’re leaving?”
“I should get going—early meeting tomorrow with some kid with three names. When did everyone decide to name their children with such long names? If I see one more Noah Jonathan Blahblah I will lose my mind. Truly,” she exclaimed, pulling Michael out of his chair. “Come on, you can walk me to my car.”
“Okay, sure, yeah, of course. Um . . . ’night, Grace! See you later, Jack,” Michael called back over his shoulder as they made their way into the house.
“’Night,” Jack said, wrapping the blanket more firmly around himself. I waved at the two of them, then turned to stand in front of him.
“You okay?” I asked, taking his empty glass and setting it down on the table. I was pulled quickly into his lap, his strong arms wrapping around me suddenly and completely. I was pressed against him, his body caging me in, close to him.
“Sometimes, I swear, she just doesn’t know when to quit!” he exclaimed, sighing into my neck as he clutched me closer.
“She’s just doing her job, Sweet Nuts. Don’t take it personally.” I snuggled further into his arms.
“How can I not take it personally? It’s my life she’s managing, not just my career. I just— Fucking hell, I don’t know.”
“Hey, hey. I know, shush,” I soothed, scratching his scalp and feeling him relax into me. His brandy breath was heavy around us, and I was reminded once again of how young he truly was. No one could possibly have prepared him for the life and all its trimmings that had been thrust upon him when he took his defining role. He held up remarkably well, all things considered.
We quietly rocked for a moment, the canyon still and quiet around us.
“Hey, did I tell you the good news?”
“What’s that, Crazy?” he asked, his lips tickling now at the edge of my shirt. Apparently he had rallied.
“I get my own trailer! Can you believe that?”
“Of course you get your own trailer. You’re the star of the show, love,” he reminded me.
That still did not seem real to me.
“Listen, it’s a pretty big deal. Not all of us are big film stars,” I reminded him, settling more firmly on his lap.
“Now when you say big, what exactly were you referring to?” he asked, gently but firmly thrusting up against me.
“Oh, please.” I laughed as he buried his face into my neck, blowing brandy-scented raspberries.
“I’m proud of you,” he whispered, his hands now roaming freely across my back, familiar yet still very much capable of making me shiver. “Are you cold?”
“No, George, I’m all kinds of warm,” I breathed into his ear, shivering once more as he literally swept me off my feet and inside to our bed.
two
So tonight, I’m heading to this club and I thought—” he said the following morning.
At least I think that’s what he said. I was under the shower spray, and someone had his hands all over my breasts. Keeping me steady, of course, just for balance.
“You’re going out again tonight?” I spluttered.
“Again? I was home last night,” he answered, leaning underneath his own showerhead. The shower he had installed boasted his and hers nozzles. Although more often than not we ended up on one side or the other.
“True, but you were out almost every night last week.”
“Is this where you turn into a nagging girlfriend?” He winked, letting the water stream off his face and down onto his chest and tummy, making the happy trail stand out even more. It sure made me happy.
“I think so. Hang on, let me put on my nag face,” I said sternly, frowning in an exaggerated way. “Honey, don’t you think you should stay home and clean out the gutters?” I whined, putting my hands on my hips and stomping my foot. An action that would have been more forceful had I not slipped as I did it. He caught me, laughing as I struggled to stay upright. He gave me a light smack on the bottom as he put me back on my feet.
“As it happens, I was going to ask if you wanted to come out with me tonight.”
“Me? Go out with the boys club? Seriously?” I teased, handing him a washcloth.
Jack had been spending more and more time with some of the guys from his new film, something I initially encouraged him to do. For all the lip service he gave me about loving The Golden Girls, I reminded him often that he was a young guy about town and needed to live it up. Lately he had taken me up on my offer, almost too willingly at times.
“Sure, why not? I figured it was about time you met these guys. These are the guys I’m supposed to be willing to die for, right?”
“In a movie, love. Die for them in a movie. Will there be dancing?” I asked.
“I imagine so.”
“Will you be dancing?”
“I’m British. We don’t dance.”
“Can I dance?”
“I’m counting on it. Jesus, Grace, you should see yourself right now.” He sighed. I was leaning back under the spray, and was I making sure my breasts were pushed up high and perky? Yep.
Nice. Posing for your man?
Can’t hurt.
I felt his mouth beginning to drag down the side of my neck, and I came up for air.
“Hey, we can’t do this now, Sweet Nuts. I’m meeting Holly in forty-five minutes, and she gets testy when I’m late.”
“I only need five minutes; just hold still, Crazy.”
I laughed as he slid his body up mine, every nerve ending sparking to life. But water and sparks don’t play well together, and I held him at arm’s length.
“Seriously, I can’t. Holly won’t let me use sex with you as an excuse to be late.”
“How do you know? Try it.”
“Shush, you. Shower gel, please,” I instructed, pointing. He handed it to me, we lathered, and I tried to go about the business of washing up. Which was hard.
Because so was he . . .
Because so was he.
Twenty minutes later, he sat on the bench at the end of the bed while I got ready.
“So tonight? Yes?” he asked, handing me my bra. Which he held with reverence. I think he was jealous that it got to hold my boobies all day, something he would prefer to do.
“Yes, tonight. Can I bring Holly? She’s
been dying to go out dancing. We can make a night of it!” I said excitedly, standing in front of him and running my hands over his scruff. It was taking some getting used to, but I was kind of digging it. He looked older and younger all at the same time. It was mesmerizing.
“Bring everyone you want, love. Just text me the names, and I’ll tell Adam.”
“Adam?”
“Adam Kasen, from the film? He’ll make sure whoever we want is on the list,” he replied, nuzzling into my palm.
“‘On the list’? You going Hollywood on me, George?”
“This from the girl taking a meeting today to discuss her shooting schedule for her new TV series, right?”
“Wow, my new TV series. Can you say that again?”
“‘My new TV series’?”
“Nope, my new TV series.”
“That’s what I said, exactly.” He grinned as I threw my towel at him. He growled as I danced away from his grabbing hands.
“You better go to your meeting, you little tease, before I keep you here all day.”
“Okay, I’ll see you later tonight then?”
“Yep, I’ll be the one in the corner with the posse behind the velvet rope.” He nodded, laying back on the bed, the sheets still tussled from our previous activities.
“Perfect. This pussy loves a posse,” I teased as he rolled his eyes at me.
“You have five seconds to get out of here, Grace.”
“Leaving,” I yelled as I headed toward the kitchen, grabbing my water bottle off the counter.
“Hey, Crazy?” I heard his feet slapping behind me on the hardwood.
“Yes?” I smiled as he stuck his head around the corner.
“I saw a couple cars that looked really familiar yesterday down the hill. Watch yourself out there, okay?” He smiled, his eyes burning into mine.
“No pics. Got it.” I mock saluted.
“Don’t let them make us into the next Ashton and Demi. People love to see a couple fall apart.”
“Did you really just compare me to Demi?”
“Sorry. I guess you’re a little older, right?” he teased, tugging on my ponytail as I slid a ball cap on.
I used to tease him so much about wearing his ball cap, and now I hardly went anywhere without one, especially when driving in my neighborhood. I was fanatical about making sure no one knew where we lived. I knew it couldn’t last much longer, but I wanted to keep our bubble around us as long as possible.
The Redhead Series Page 51