He stood behind her, his arms encircling hers. The way he cradled her, she felt incredibly close to him.
“I remember that ride so well,” he said in a low voice. “The sweet scent of your skin, our first kiss…You tasted like lemonade and sunshine.”
The photo dissolved as another one displayed.
“Wow!” She stared at the crisscross of her fishnet cover-up transposed over the lines of the spiderweb. “Bill, you’re a good photographer!”
“That’s because…”
She knew the rest of it without his saying. Because of his training as a director.
“Because I’m visual,” he finally said.
“More than visual,” she said gently, “you’re talented, too. Look how others are stopping to look at the photo.”
He nuzzled the soft pink shell of her ear, then nibbled on the lobe. “Maybe that’s because of the beautiful woman in the picture.”
When a close-up of a dragon head flashed on another screen, the gathering crowd oohed and ahed.
“You’re a good photographer, too,” he whispered into her ear.
Gasping softly, she reached up and stroked his face while continuing to watch the photos of themselves.
“It’s exciting to watch us,” he murmured, trailing his fingers around her waist. “We’re good together, Ellie.”
She held her breath, as though to release it might release the magic of what he’d said. Silly, and yet when she finally exhaled, she did it slowly, as though testing the magic of his words.
Nothing changed. He still cradled her from behind, they still stared at the photos although theirs were no longer flashing on the screens.
We’re good together, Ellie.
So what if they’d had a few bumps in the road, they kept coming back together, kept reconnecting, kept digging deeper and finding new meaning in their relationship. Yes, relationship. She knew as certainly as her heart was beating that this would go on.
Maybe for the long haul?
They were at a point in their lives where they were both starting new careers. Hers with the expanded coffee shop, clothing-design business, not to mention overseeing other commercial rental spaces. His with whatever he wanted to pursue next. Starting out together, they could give each other a lot of support and encouragement, be each other’s cheering sections.
Of course, he’d refuse to move to East L.A., would probably refuse to even visit her there. Which meant the commuting would be up to her, which would be stressful and difficult. A normal twenty-minute drive on the 405 could take up to three hours during peak times. No way she could handle hours-long commutes and kick off several businesses, which meant this whole damn thing was doomed before it got off the ground so why even care?
“All that stands between fear and outcome is courage, my friends, courage!”
“Hear that?” Bill chuckled. “Sounds like our friend Magellan is nearby.”
“He’s a nut.”
“So we all are, I say.” Bill pulled her around, kissed her on the tip of her nose. “The guy’s funny, and laughter is the best medicine, so I say let’s join the audience and enjoy ourselves.”
She gave in, wanting to shake her thoughts. Bill was right. Laughter was a good thing.
A few minutes later, they stood in the crowd, watching Magellan lure a young couple onto the stage.
“Come, come,” Magellan said to the guy and girl heading up the stairs to the stage. “I have no tricks up my sleeves, just the insights of my mind into your lives, and the mysteries I will foretell!”
“Do you think he’d bald underneath that turban?” asked Ellie.
“Bald?” asked Bill. “Could be. That turban fits pretty snugly.”
Magellan suddenly stopped talking. Turning to the audience, he scanned the crowd.
“Ah,” he said, his gaze falling on Bill, “have you learned what has roots nobody sees, is taller than trees?”
The first lines of the riddle. Bill smiled, shook his head.
Magellan nodded knowingly, his gaze drifting to Ellie. He gave her a wink before turning back to his act. “Everyone,” he said, sweeping his hand to the young couple on stage, “give these brave people a hand.”
Someone touched Ellie’s shoulder and she jumped.
17
ELLIE GASPED, jerked her head around.
“Sis!”
“Matt!” She looked him up and down. “Wow, look at you! Brad Pitt, step aside.”
Her brother actually blushed. “I’m a made-over man, what can I say?” He nodded to Bill. “We meet again, neighbor.”
“How’s it goin’, Matt?”
“Great. Hey, El, I just saw the Queen of Evil’s name posted outside the contest area as one of the winners for the Good Vibrations contest. Congratulations!”
“Cool!” Ellie gave Bill a high five.
“So, why aren’t you two on the set? I didn’t know Hollywood directors got to play hooky.”
“Yeah, they do,” chimed in Ellie. “It’s one of the perks. So how’s Candy? Wasn’t today some kind of important business luncheon?” If she kept talking about Candy, the conversation wouldn’t return to Bill’s directing career. “Yes, it was. She told me this morning. Duh. I should’ve remembered that. That Candy, wow, is she a marketing powerhouse or what?”
Matt started to speak.
Ellie cut him off. “She deserves recognition for that, too. Which will happen of course when she gets that team leader thing at SyncUp.”
“What?” asked Matt.
“You know, that team leader position—”
“Candy knew about that?”
“Sure! That’s Candy for you. A mover and shaker, her finger always on the pulse of what’s happening.”
“I, uh, need to go.” Matt started to leave, stopped, turned back. “Good seeing you again, Bill.”
“Same here, Matt.”
With a halfhearted salute, her brother disappeared into the crowd.
“He seems to have a lot on his mind,” said Bill.
“Don’t we all.”
Bill gave her an approving look. “So the Queen of Evil is a winner, eh? Let’s go check that out, see how she, I mean you, did.”
She smiled. “I’ve been pretty silly….”
“Silly’s good. Worrying’s bad.” He put his arm around her as they started walking toward the Good Vibrations stage. “Would’ve been nice if you’d let me in on your internal angst so I could have put your mind to rest.”
“I’m not always so good about speaking up.”
“Coulda fooled me.”
She laughed, playfully punched him. “Bill Romero, you should know better than to mess with the Queen of Evil!”
A FEW MINUTES LATER, they stood in front of the Good Vibrations stage, now empty, where it had all happened the night before.
“Here it is!” Bill leaned closer to the sign. “Queen of Evil, you came in second place.”
“Second?” She peered up at the sign. “Who knocked the queen out of first place?”
“Keep in mind, queenie, it was a tough competition. Ready to hear?”
She nodded, liking how they were playing with each other.
“First place went to…Danny Gerash and his singing water glasses.”
She feigned disappointment. “If only I’d brought more water into my act.”
“Obviously, that was the key.” They shared a smile. “But they gave you, I mean us, couple points, queenie!”
“Team Java Mammas will be proud.”
They stood, their arms around each other as they looked out at the empty stage.
“I have good memories of that,” whispered Ellie.
“Me, too. After I got over my jealousy.”
She gave him a squeeze. “The Queen of Evil got you that worked up, huh?”
“No,” he breathed, stroking his hand along her arm, “Ellie Rockwell got me that worked up.” He slid his hand down to hers, lacing their fingers, his warm fingers lazily stroking and rubbing h
ers.
“Come on,” Bill said, leading her toward the stage, “I want to be a couple again.”
They left their drinks on the edge of the small stage, then walked to the center where he gathered her into his arms, swaying slightly to an unheard tune.
She linked her hands together around his neck, laid her head on his chest, heady with his scent, his strength, the sweetness of the moment. The festival receded like the waves, pulling far back to the sea, leaving the two of them here in their own private world.
His hands moved down her back, settling momentarily on her hips where he pressed her against him, showing her how she made him feel. Then he skimmed his fingers back up, feathering lightly across her bare skin, up to the sensitive area of her neck.
She shuddered, looked up into his face, saw in his eyes that he hid nothing from her. Neither the pain of his dismissal…nor the intensity of his desire. He was a strong man, probably the strongest she’d ever known, which made his willingness to let down his guard and be vulnerable all the more precious to her.
He was showing her that he trusted her.
He slipped his fingers up her neck, cupping her head with his hold, his other hand gliding up her rib cage, up to the swell of her breast which he gently massaged, his body turned so it shielded his movements from others.
He leaned close, his stubble rough against her cheek. “I want you,” he murmured, his mouth nibbling seductively at hers. “I need you.”
Fire leaped in her belly as he pulled her tightly against him, his hard male body against hers. Over his shoulder, she saw the curtained-off changing area still standing, hidden behind some stacked chairs and equipment. The sight was dangerous, made her think of things she shouldn’t be thinking, not in broad daylight….
Another part of her said screw it. This man needed her, she needed him, and after what they’d been through, maybe this was all they had. Now. Here.
Not wanting to think or question, she took his hand and led him off the stage.
Moments later, after peering outside to ensure no one had seen their escape, she slid the curtain closed.
Sunlight filtered through the blue material that fluttered with the ocean breezes, the rippling light creating an underwater effect.
She looked at him, her heart hammering, her breaths suddenly shaky. All the tension, passion, heat of the day welled up inside her, burning off every last coherent thought. All she wanted was to touch him, feel him, taste him.
He slid down her bikini bottom, inched his hand into her wet curls, zeroing in on her core. Stifling a cry, she fumbled with his shorts, managed to pull them down far enough to free his stiff cock.
“No,” he growled, working her harder, “you first.”
She sputtered a contradiction that ended in a hiss as she widened her thighs, her sex throbbing with his probing, circling fingers, her hand mindlessly squeezing his sex, her mouth blindly streaking his face, his lips, finally latching onto that bushy little soul patch, suckling as though her very life depended on it. A hot, bold quickie. She’d never done this before, but then, no man had ever been Bill. With him, she felt unabashedly wild, exquisitely free, incorrigibly wanton.
Panting, rubbing, licking, she suddenly rose onto her toes and arched her back, foggily realizing those depraved, needy grunts were hers.
She clutched his shirt for balance, clenching her teeth as the first climax hit, stifling her panting squeals as she rode his hand, thrusting her hips hard and tight, over and over to completion until, with a final whimper, she settled back onto her feet. Lazily opening her eyes, she pulled out his hand and, while holding his gaze, lightly flicked her tongue over the tips of his fingers.
His eyes glinted with heat and surprise.
With a wicked grin, she sank to her knees onto the sandy floor.
She took him into her mouth, his shaft so smooth and hard, his taste salty, musky. Still throbbing from her own orgasm, she groaned as she drew him into her mouth, loving his deep shudder of pleasure.
Sea breezes swept underneath the curtains, stroking and cooling her heated flesh. Cradling his balls with one hand, she juggled them softly as she twirled her tongue around the hardened ridge, a teaser before taking him in with a long, wet suck.
Tightening her lips, she pulled her mouth back up his rigid sex, stroking in tandem with her hand, repeating the movement slowly back down, up, down….
His hands tangled in her hair as his hips twitched. “Look at me,” he whispered hoarsely, “Ellie, please…”
She held his dark gaze as she licked and stroked and sucked, her hands working with her tongue, her eyes telling him everything she’d never said in words.
“Ellie…” He blinked, his voice racked with emotion. “Ellie, I…”
As his release came, she took him in, coddling him with her mouth and hands, savoring his pleasure, knowing that what’d they done had been more, much more than a hot quickie. Hot and quick, yes, but they’d also made love.
Love.
Which he’d known, too, even though that was the word he’d left unsaid.
SOON AFTER, they continued their stroll down the midway, sipping their melted-down lemonades, occasionally sharing a secret smile.
If there was ever a moment in her life that felt perfect, this was it. The swirl of ocean air, the happy energy of the festivalgoers, the quiet, unspoken connection between her and Bill. For a crazy moment, she felt as though she didn’t deserve this, that maybe their pact to stave off reality meant this was a dream and nothing more, that it would end after they passed through the festival gates and returned to the real world.
A cell phone rang.
“Not mine because I left it at the set,” Ellie said with a shrug. “Plus I have the Lou Reed ringtone.”
“How could I forget,” teased Bill, flicking her an amused look as he fished in his shorts’ pocket. He retrieved his phone, answered it.
“Bill here.”
He listened, his face growing tight, angry. He looked at Ellie, mouthed “Sullivan.”
Sullivan.
She felt an ugly foreboding, wondered if the producer was blaming Bill for more problems, maybe threatening legal action. What a mess. So much for their escape from reality.
Then, a look of surprise came over Bill’s face. He glanced at Ellie, his eyes sparkling.
“No need to,” he said into the phone. “Okay, go ahead…Yes…All right…Fine…Thanks, bye.” He flipped it shut, dropped it back into his pocket, then flashed her a big, guess-what grin.
She returned the smile, but inside she felt chilled, afraid.
“Sullivan apologized. Asked me to come back as director.”
Down the midway, the merry-go-round started, the calliope playing a lighthearted, airy children’s tune. In the distance, Magellan called out for people to be brave, to have courage.
“That’s great,” she said cautiously, “if that’s what you want.”
He sputtered a laugh. “Are you kidding? Of course I want it! But that’s not the best part. He’s asked me to be the next director. No more tryouts, no more filling in. I’m number one, Ellie!”
He pulled her into a bear hug, squeezing her so hard, she could scarcely breathe. “That’s great,” she heard herself saying in a voice she didn’t recognize, “just great.”
He pulled back, his smile fading as he caught the look in her eyes.
“What is it?”
She swallowed, wondering if she should say what was weighing on her heart. But if she didn’t, she was no better than the Ellie who’d stuffed down the truth about herself, imagining it to be worse than it really was. Maybe that was true here, too. What she imagined wasn’t as bad as she thought.
“Bill,” she said softly, “you’re not happy in that job.”
“Says who?”
Now that she’d said it, she realized her words were dead-on right. He’d have the job, the title, but he’d lose his self-respect.
“Me. Sullivan won’t change. Like you said, he’s
a line producer trying to take artistic control. You’ll live under his thumb, under his public humiliations day after day. You’re better than that job.”
“Better?” One black eyebrow shot up. “Look, Sullivan’s an asshole, I’ll grant you that. But sometimes that’s what it takes to run a big, successful project.” He half smiled, made a dismissive gesture. “Forget all that. The fact is, it’s the kind of big break I’ve spent my entire career going after, and if it means I have to deal with an asshole on a daily basis, so be it.”
The calliope sounded so loud, the organ music jarring. She touched her fingers to her brow, trying to shut out the chaos of people and noises around them. She lowered her hand, suddenly feeling tired and drained from the intensity of the day. “I just think you’d be happier at the independent film company—”
Bill tried to bite back the expletive, but it shot out anyway. “Sorry,” he muttered, raking his hand through his hair. “You and I have a bad habit of having these arguments in the middle of the damn midway.”
She twisted her mouth. “Maybe we should have made a pact about not doing that, too.”
They stared each other down for a long moment.
“I think our problem,” he said quietly, “is that you dream small, Ellie, and I dream big.”
“Our problem?” She laughed. “I think your problem is you’re so caught up in being a big man with a big career you’ve lost all perspective.”
People were gawking, craning their necks as they walked by.
“Ellie, just because you’re settling for a small dream doesn’t mean I have to.”
He saw the hurt in her eyes, and hated himself for putting it there. It was inevitable, he now realized, that they’d reach this point. He could never go back, and she could never not.
“By small,” she said, “you mean the hood.”
He nodded.
“Have you ever thought that no matter how big you think you are,” she murmured, “your prejudice will always make you small? You’re ashamed of your roots, and until that changes, you’ll be ashamed of yourself.”
His face turned hard, dangerous, as his gaze delved into hers. “Let me get this straight. Just because you’re going back, it’s going to get better? Like, all those poor kids who think being successful is growing up to be a drug dealer and driving a Range Rover…you’re gonna change that?”
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