by Fiona Riley
They boarded and Stephanie gave them a quick tour. The pilots came out and shook Emerson’s hand before they disappeared behind the door of the cockpit. The plane was long and narrow but plenty roomy. Stephanie explained to them that it had seating for up to eight passengers with a queen-sized bed in the back. A bench to the right when they first stepped on converted to a twin bed, and all the remaining seats were of the fancy leather recliner variety that did all sorts of cool things by touch screen. Hayley tried not to fuss over the awesomeness of this plane. She could tell that Emerson was eager to get into the air, probably to get this over with.
She thanked Stephanie for the glass of cold water and sat across from Emerson with a small dining table between them. This plane was easily as big as Emerson’s trailer. It was all light colors and streamlined elegance. Emerson looked very much the part, sitting across from her with her fancy LA clothes and the uninterested look on her face. This fit her. But the woman who’d lounged with her by the lake in cutoff jeans she’d found in the closet, wearing Hayley’s plaid shirt, also fit. Emerson was complicated and multifaceted that way.
“What are you thinking?” Emerson caught her off guard.
“Oh. Um. Just that you look like you belong here. Like this suits you.” She motioned to the space around them.
Emerson leaned back against the large, comfy seat and brought a knee up to her chest. “There are definite perks to celebrity. It’s nice to fly in luxury. But it’s still flying.”
“I know.” Hayley frowned. “But it’s fancy as fuck. I mean, this water is in a crystal glass. Crystal. Glass. And it’s already chilled.”
Emerson chuckled and teased. “I love that you appreciate the simple things in life, Hayley.”
“I like to think I have a rather refined taste for a woodsy Maine girl at heart.”
“You are delicious, I’ll give you that.” Emerson winked at her.
Hayley had been reaching into her messenger bag when Emerson’s word choice stopped her from finding what she was looking for. “Did you just turn a very innocent statement into something sexual, Emerson? Because that’s what it sounded like. Are you objectifying me?”
“I totally was. Sorry.” Emerson gave her an exaggerated pout. “Still like me?”
“I suppose I have to at least pretend to like you since we’re on this extravagant jet adventure together.” She made a flying motion with her hand.
Emerson looked out the window and gasped. “We’re in the air.”
Hayley nodded. “As planes tend to do.”
“You did it again.” Emerson looked back at her with a grateful expression. “Thank you for distracting me from the takeoff.”
Hayley shrugged. “It’s the least I could do.” She pointed toward Francis, who was sitting up by the cockpit and talking to Stephanie. “You don’t need my master fabric cloaking skills on this flight. I need to make myself useful.”
Emerson reached across the table and patted her hand. “You are the most useful.”
Hayley brushed imaginary lint off her shoulder. “All in a day’s work, m’lady.”
Emerson nodded toward her bag. “What’s in the bag of tricks today?”
Hayley pulled out the two little boxes she’d picked up from the gas station on their way to the airport. “We now have Skip-Bo and a deck of cards, in addition to Uno. But I’m telling you right now, if I catch you cheating at Uno, I’m going to sit with Frank up there and you’ll have to entertain yourself.”
“So many threats.” Emerson’s flashed her those perfect Hollywood teeth. “I’ll be on my best behavior.”
“You do that.” Hayley was all bark. She’d let Emerson cheat at Uno all day and the wink Emerson gave her let her know she knew it, too.
* * *
After Emerson yawned for the dozenth time, she finally consented to sleeping. The bed was in a separate section of the plane, in the rear opposite the bathroom and tiny kitchenette. There was another recliner in there, with a small table and a privacy door that closed off the bedroom area from the rest of the plane. It wasn’t exactly Fort Knox, but it would give Emerson a chance to rest and some privacy, which Hayley could tell was something she desired.
Even though Stephanie and Francis stayed at the front of the plane and only ventured back occasionally, Emerson seemed wary. It was like she expected one of them to be spying on her or something. Hayley wondered if Emerson felt violated by the images of her and Rachel sharing what clearly were intended to be private moments together that now flooded the interwebs. She imagined the various gossip networks were probably having a field day with this. Emerson’s face was definitely on loop by now.
Hayley had followed her into the bedroom space at her request. She wasn’t sure where they stood exactly now that they were out of the sanctity of the lake house. Emerson had seemed so stressed by the media overexposure and then the flight that she hadn’t wanted to ask.
Emerson sat at the edge of the bed and kicked off her boots. She motioned for Hayley to close and lock the door.
Hayley dropped her messenger bag onto the nearby recliner and stretched, unsure of what to do next.
Emerson patted the space next to her on the bed and Hayley sat down beside her.
“You seem anxious around them.” Hayley thumbed toward the door. “You okay?”
Emerson sighed and leaned into Hayley before pressing their lips together. “I miss the lake house. I miss the quiet.”
Hayley savored the feeling of Emerson’s lips on her own. She wasn’t sure how many more times this would happen. “I miss kissing you whenever I want.”
Emerson pulled back and looked at her. She hadn’t meant to say that out loud. Goddamn broken filter. She blamed Emerson’s full, pouty lips. They were incredibly distracting.
“I want to. Can we just…” Emerson frowned. “I want you to kiss me whenever you want. And I want to see what happens here.” She motioned between them before her frown deepened. “But it’s not going to be easy, Hay. It’s going to be hard and frustrating and—”
“And worth it.” Hayley kissed her forehead and pulled back the comforter. “We’ll figure it out. Let’s get you some sleep and we can worry about all the big crazy later on.”
Emerson looked disappointed. “You’re not coming to bed?”
“Oh.” That hadn’t occurred to her. She was planning to work on her piece for the Sun. She had quite a bit of info to add and polish since she’d last worked on it. She had a ton of new information, like all the Rachel and Rory stuff and the firsthand knowledge of what Emerson looked like when her head was thrown back in ecstasy in bed. Not that she’d ever write about that, but…Great, now she was thinking about Emerson in bed while sitting with Emerson on a bed.
“I lost you, didn’t I?” Emerson slipped under the comforter and extended her hand to Hayley.
Hayley allowed herself to be pulled down next to Emerson and wrapped her up in her arms. “No, I’m right here. I was going to do a little work, but I’d much rather be your personal pillow and space heater.”
Emerson rolled on her side and Hayley spooned up behind her. She laced their fingers together and Emerson sighed. “You have to finish your piece.”
“I do.” She placed a kiss behind Emerson’s ear and breathed in the smell of the lake house’s shampoo in her hair. It gave her all kinds of feelings, the melding of Maine and Emerson. She decided it was her new favorite scent.
Emerson turned in her arms to face her. She traced her finger along Hayley’s lips. “What will you say about…”
“Rory?” Hayley kissed her fingertip.
Emerson nodded. She looked nervous again.
“Just what I need to tell the narrative of your life, Emerson. It can be nothing or everything or something in between. It’s to be determined, really.”
Emerson nodded but said nothing.
Hayley hesitated. “Do you want me to leave it out? I will. I told you that before—”
Emerson pressed her finger to Hayley’
s lips again. “Write what needs to be written, Hayley. I trust you to do what you think is best. Tell my story. It’s what we set out to do here.”
Hayley reached out and stroked Emerson’s cheek. She was mesmerized by those incredible eyes. “Is that all we’re doing here? Telling your story?”
“I hope not.” Emerson’s voice was soft. She looked as exposed as Hayley felt. After a beat she asked, “Stay with me until I fall asleep?”
“Of course.” Hayley decided she would stay with her forever, if she’d have her. “There’s no place else I’d rather be.” That was true.
* * *
Hayley dozed with Emerson for a bit before some turbulence woke her up. Luckily, Emerson didn’t seem to notice and slept soundly next to her. After lying there for some time, she decided she couldn’t fall back asleep. She slipped out of bed and tucked the pillows and blankets around Emerson to keep her comfortable.
She walked toward the recliner in the corner and settled into the seat. Although the plane was quiet, it was still a plane. And it still hummed loud enough that Hayley was confident she could work on her laptop over here without disturbing Emerson’s sleep.
She powered up her laptop and signed into the Wi-Fi with the code Stephanie had given her when they’d boarded. She opened her web browser and checked on the alerts icon in the corner. Within seconds, her screen was filled with images of Emerson, old and new, standing next to various celebrities and nobodies posing this way and that. A picture of her standing with Johnny and Rachel caught Hayley’s eye. Johnny was smiling, and Rachel was midlaugh. Emerson was looking at Rachel. There was an affection there. Or at least there appeared to be some. Hayley couldn’t help but wonder if they’d been sleeping together at the time this was taken. She tried to ignore the tug of jealousy that bubbled up.
She loaded a new search bar and typed in Rachel’s name. Although she’d done some preliminary research at the beginning of this process, she’d mostly ignored Rachel in lieu of focusing on Emerson. But she had a feeling that she needed to have a better idea about Rachel and her background to really process all the information she’d learned from Emerson over the weekend. Could this woman really be threatening to ruin a child’s life to get back at an ex-lover? What made Rachel tick?
She thought about the look on Emerson’s face that first night she’d seen Rachel interact with her backstage. She’d seen that same face earlier when Emerson fled the red carpet and again when Tremont had sent them the link with the picture of Emerson and Hayley in the trailer talking—it was a look of fear. Carnal and raw. Emerson had appeared afraid of Rachel. And now knowing what she did about Rory, she could see why. Still, a part of her was curious about Rachel’s side of the story. Could this really all be about ego and fame? Or did Emerson mean more to Rachel than Emerson thought she did? Hayley wasn’t sure she’d ever get those answers.
She loaded her piece and skimmed it over. She was proud of this. It was some of her best work and she knew it. She could feel the passion in the words. She had poured herself into this and it showed. She thought about Emerson and Rachel and Rory and what they meant to the narrative in front of her. Could she do the story justice by leaving Rachel out? She wasn’t thrilled about giving this woman any more media attention. But she knew that, no, she couldn’t leave her out, either, since she was the reason Emerson had to reveal the truth about Rory in the first place. Could she protect Emerson and Rory and shine light on Rachel’s fucked-up behavior without putting too much of a spotlight on either of them? Was there a way that anyone would end up unscathed by this? Or was she just about to make things worse for everyone involved? She wasn’t sure about that. There had to be a way she could get the truth out there without devastating Emerson’s career or her family’s privacy in the process.
She sighed and leaned back in her chair. Her decision to mindlessly cruise Twitter failed epically when she found that she had hundreds of mentions, notifications, and direct messages. She had never been so popular. On a whim she skimmed through the DMs to see if anyone of interest had reached out to her. There were a few fellow reporters. Anna Mae Teslan from LA Life had been messaging her furiously over the weekend. A couple of threats by some Rachel fans, it seemed. And, shut the front door, a message from Rachel herself: we should talk. lets meet.
Suddenly the already complicated mess in front of her just got a little messier. Wait until Alison got wind of this. OMG, she had totally stood up Alison for dumpling night. “Shit. Alison.”
“You know, someone with a little less confidence would be worried that you were saying another woman’s name with such passion,” Emerson said from behind her.
She turned and winced. “Did I wake you?”
“No. You did a fantastic pillow stacking job. I was convinced you were still the big spoon. Nice work.” Emerson stretched out on her side and yawned.
Hayley exited her DMs and closed her laptop. She wanted to think about the Rachel thing before she told Emerson. If she told Emerson. She should, shouldn’t she?
“So why are we shitting Alison?”
“What?”
“You said, Shit. Alison. I want to make sure I know why we’re shitting her.” Emerson yawned again.
Hayley rubbed her eyes and walked toward her, letting herself be pulled to bed by Emerson. She flopped back on the pillow and Emerson snuggled into the crook of her arm. “We had a tentative date watching chick flicks and having dumplings. Not only did I miss it, I didn’t even text or call her. I stood her up.” Hayley felt awful.
“Well, I did whisk you to the East Coast with next to no warning,” Emerson pointed out.
“And seduced me with your feminine wiles.”
“That’s fair. But who’s to say you didn’t seduce me first?” Emerson kissed under her jaw and she closed her eyes at the sensation.
“You’re right. That’s what I’ll tell our kids when they ask who made the first move. I’ll tell them it was me. I seduced you. Full stop.”
Emerson’s laugh vibrated against her chest. “Well, you and that flannel shirt. Which I’m keeping, by the way.”
“No way. That’s my lucky shirt.” Hayley dipped her head to connect their lips.
“You can keep your lucky pants.” Emerson slid her hand along Hayley’s stomach and slipped beneath the fabric. “I prefer you out of them anyway.”
“I do love those pants.” Hayley’s mind was on the current pair that Emerson was helping off her.
“Mm. I like this compromise.” Emerson climbed over her and nuzzled her nose. “Why don’t we celebrate our mutually agreed upon custody of your clothes by taking off the ones we’re wearing?”
Hayley shrugged off her shirt and pulled Emerson back down on top of her. “I never agreed to relinquishing ownership of my shirt, just FYI.”
Emerson kissed her hard and she forgot what she had been saying. “I can be very persuasive.”
“Yeah?”
Emerson leaned back and licked her lips as she palmed Hayley’s breasts and ground her hips against Hayley’s. Hayley moaned at the sensation. All the sensations. So many sensations. “Let me show you just how persuasive I can be.”
As Emerson took her nipple between her lips, Hayley decided Emerson would give her shirt a good home. As long as she got regular visitation of Emerson in it—or out of it—that would be just fine by her.
Chapter Twenty-five
“We need to talk.” Tremont stood over her and blocked the light she had been soaking up.
“Can you stand over there and chastise me without casting such an epic shadow over my existence? That’s eerie as fuck.” Emerson waved him away and closed her eyes again. This was the first time she’d been back home in months. Once they’d landed from Boston, it became painfully clear that her rental home anonymity had been compromised. No less than thirty paparazzi were at the house when she pulled up, and another fifteen were at her actual residence. She might as well be back home as be caged in someone else’s house. At least she knew where the
extra towels were here. She swore she’d spent half of her time at that rental house in search of clean towels. They were as elusive as her privacy as of late.
“Emerson, I’m serious.” He sounded serious. He was doing a good job of serious.
“You’re seriously blocking my sun. Move.” She tossed a lemon wedge from her water at him and he huffed.
“Fine. Drama queen.” He dropped his man purse and plopped next to her on the plush chaise by her infinity pool and took a sip of her water. “It’s hot as hades out here.”
“I’m in love. Don’t talk about it.” She flapped her arms and clasped them behind her head to help get an even tan across her chest.
“That’s what I want to talk about.”
She slid the sunglasses up into her hair and looked at him. “Oh? Do you know something I don’t?”
“Probably not.” He crossed his legs and leaned back. “Something tells me you’ve known for a lot longer than I did.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She slid her glasses back over her eyes and closed them.
“Don’t be a rude bitch right now. Glasses off, Emerson. Eyes here,” Tremont snipped.
She gave him a look. “Rude bitch, huh?”
Tremont laughed. “Too harsh? I’ll try again.” He cleared his throat. “Emerson, darling. Stop ignoring me like a nasty twat and talk to me. Better?”
“Much.” She took off her glasses and smiled at him. “You were saying?”
He playfully shoved her and replied, “I want to know what’s going on between you and Hayley.”
Emerson nodded. She figured she owed him that much. “When did you figure it out?”
“That picture while you were running lines”—he made air quotes—“in Boston. I know that look. I’ve seen that look on your face before when you were doing that predatory seductive thing you do. And on hers, when she was watching you do the voice-over work. Those were faces that were up to no good.”
“It’s creepy when you say things like that. Like the faces in question are their own entities.”