by Q. T. Ruby
Len laughs. “What are you—” Then silence followed by, “Hello, Claire!” Len shouts from the other room.
“Hi!” I shout back, and I’m mortified to realize I smell like syrup. I’m sticky, too.
“Remaking 9 ½ Weeks, eh?” Len laughs.
“Why are you here? Everything okay?” Dan asks.
“Everything is just fine, and I made the trip down here—not to spy on you and whatever you’re doing to this poor hotel room—but to tell you . . . hold onto your hat . . . that Bob Sushman wants you for Luke.”
Bob? Luke? Who?
“Fuck me, no!” But it’s a happy “fuck, me no” from Dan.
“Who’re Bob and Luke?” I shout through the door.
The door opens, and I jump back as it nearly hits me in the face. Dan hugs me hard for a long while before pulling back to look at me. He can’t speak for a moment. He shakes his head. “It’s my dream part, Claire. Dream director, dream script.” He squeezes me hard again.
“Oh my God! That’s amazing!”
Dan finally lets go and says, “It’s been months and months since I auditioned—before we even met I think—and Len promised that if I ever got the part, he’d come to wherever I was and tell me—which he just did!” He hugs me again.
“Well, I’m glad you didn’t find out before I got here,” Len says from the other side of the door.
“Huh?” Dan says.
Len pushes the door open slowly, his hands over his eyes. I tighten my grip on the sheet wrapped around me. “I was told a couple of days ago—hoped it wouldn’t have hit the press before I got here, and thankfully it didn’t. I just couldn’t get here until now.”
“It’s fine,” Dan says in disbelief, shaking his head.
“I’m so happy for you! What’s it about? Tell me everything!” I say.
Len peeks through his fingers. “I hate to break up the party, but I figured I’d walk with you to the set, Dan.”
Dan looks at me longingly. “Right. I have to go to work. I’m filming on the beach today, but come down when you’re ready. I’ll set you up down there, okay?”
I give him a kiss. “Sure. Can’t wait for you to tell me all the details!”
He’s beaming—I’ve never seen him so ready to burst . . . well, maybe when I told him I loved him, but that was a different kind of beaming.
***
After Dan and Len leave, I shower and wash the syrup off of me. I dress in the skimpiest light blue bathing suit to fulfill Dan’s request to wear next to nothing, and as I look at myself in the mirror, I’m positive I’ve delivered. I throw on my cover-up and hat, sling my beach bag over my shoulder, and head down to the beach.
What a stunning sight! Blue waters, white sand—in one word—paradise. The crew isn’t far off; it looks like they’re setting up. I see Dan and chance a wave, unsure if he can see me, too. He waves back and jogs over.
“Hi,” he says, tilting his head at me like he’s searching me for something.
Then I realize. “You can’t see through the cover up. You didn’t get the X-ray vision, remember? You only got the insane good looks. And I like your costume, by the way. It doesn’t really look like a costume. It’s like your normal clothes.” I laugh and look around. “Are you on a break or something?”
“Kind of. Just between set-ups, so I only have a second. Come on. I’ll show you where you can stay. They’ve booked out the entire hotel and have got security everywhere.” He leads me to an area nearby with stakes in the ground and a rope attached to them all. There’s a lone umbrella and a chaise lounge chair underneath. “Security knows you’re here, and you won’t be in the shots. But I can still see you.” He winks mischievously.
“I’ll be watching you . . .” I sing. “So you set this up, you stalker?”
“Yeah. Surprises, remember?” A devilish grin appears.
Smiling wide, I whip off the cover-up. “Thank you. I’ll be here, waiting for you.”
He whimpers, biting his lip. “You’re killing me.” He rubs the back of his neck. “I’ll come back at lunch, okay?”
“Okay. You’d better go. They’re all looking over here.”
“Yeah, see you in a bit, my love.” He winks. I watch his round ass jog away. My God, he’s fine. Gives me the chills every time I see him.
I unpack my bag and lay my towel on the chair. How sweet of him to set me up here like this. I take a peek in his direction. It’s so odd to see behind-the-scenes things—cameras, weird contraptions hanging above them, people standing around, and Dan in the center of it with other actors who I can’t quite make out from here.
Gazing out at the blue water rushing in and out, I’m in awe. It’s so pretty and peaceful here. I look up and down the beach—there’s no one around. Guess that’s what happens when they secure an area for filming. I get up to dip my toes in the water. The cool water rushes over my feet and up past my ankles. It’s such a contrast to the hot, steamy sun. I ease into the water, one step at a time until I’m almost waist deep, and then I plunge in all the way before coming up and pushing my hair back. I swim for a few minutes and then make my way back to the chair.
I dig out a bottle of water and my book from my bag and settle into the chair.
***
“Claire?”
There’s a tug on my arm and my eyes flutter open. Dan. “Hi.” I sit up. “I must have fallen asleep.”
Dan smiles, staring at my boobs. “That bathing suit is . . .” He growls.
I grin. “I thought you’d like it. It was the smallest one I could find.”
“I like that you’re listening to my fashion advice.”
“Yes, you and Bridget seem to have the same taste.”
He laughs. “I’m going to get us some lunch and bring it down here. Do you want a turkey, ham, or roast beef sandwich?”
“Wouldn’t it be easier for me to come up there?”
“No, because then I have to share you, and I’ve barely seen you yet.”
I laugh. “Okay, I’ll take a turkey sandwich.”
He runs off, and as I stand to shake off my towel, a good-looking, blond guy approaches. He’s wearing bright green board shorts and sporting some nicely defined muscles. He’s smiling at me, too. I look around—maybe he’s smiling at someone else.
“Hi,” he says. “Want some help?”
“No, thank you.” I turn to continue to situate my towel on the chair.
“I should introduce myself,” he says, coming around to face me again. “I’m Ian Glammer.” He extends his hand.
He looks vaguely familiar, but who would I know here? “Do I know you?”
He smiles; his teeth are perfect little white squares. “I look familiar, right? You’ve probably seen me in the movies Lost Cause, Down and Dirty, and Ugly Shame. Those were my biggest box offices. You’re Dan Chase’s girlfriend, Claire, right?”
“Oh, yeah! I remember you from those movies. Sorry. Yes, I’m his girlfriend.” I smile and shake his hand. “I guess you’re all breaking for lunch. Time to enjoy the beach a bit before you get back to it, right?”
He nods, and his smile fades a bit. “You’re here visiting Dan?”
“Yeah. It’s beautiful here. Not a bad place to visit.”
“Not as beautiful as you are.”
I’m taken aback. “Oh . . . thank you.” I’m suddenly all too aware at just how skimpy my bathing suit is. I turn to get my cover-up on.
“No, don’t cover up all that goodness. You look amazing. We should all be allowed to enjoy the view a while longer . . .”
What?
“How does he do it?”
I finish getting my cover-up on. Something tells me to get away. I quickly begin gathering my things.
He continues, oblivious t
o my discomfort, or maybe he’s doing it on purpose—I can’t quite tell. “How does Dan get it all? Good looks, every part offered in Hollywood, an incredibly hot girlfriend?” His gaze lingers on my chest. “But . . . you can do better than him. You’re too much woman for him.”
Over my shoulder I hear, “Claire?” I turn; it’s Dan. Thank God! He’s sort of rushing, carrying a tray of food. “What the fuck are you doing here?” he snaps at Ian before he places the tray on the chair. Dan’s suddenly taller and stiff and angry. Very angry. Whoa.
“Oh look, Claire. Prince Charming’s arrived, ready to save the day. Where’s the white horse?” Ian stretches his neck, pretending to look for the horse.
“Get lost, prick,” Dan says.
“I’m here on vacation, douche. I can go anywhere I want.”
“No. You can’t. This area is closed to the public, so get the fuck out.”
“Afraid I might steal her away, are you?” Ian taunts with a smirk.
“Get out,” Dan says, jaw-tight.
Ian looks behind us. I turn to look, too. Two huge guys wearing “crew” shirts are making their way over.
“It was a pleasure meeting you, Claire,” Ian says, grinning and blatantly eyeing me up and down. “You’re capable of improving these already beautiful beaches. If you get bored of this lame excuse for a man, which I’m sure you will, I’m just the next resort over from you. Find me. I’ll show you what you’ve been missing.” He winks and walks off just as the two huge guys arrive.
“Everything all right?” one of them asks.
Dan, still tense and fuming, says, “Yeah. Thanks.” Nostrils flaring, he breathes slowly, in and out, and rubs the back of his neck. “Claire, this is Tom and Rich.” The two men extend their hands to me. “They’re with security here.”
“Nice to meet you,” I say, shaking their hands.
“We’ll stay just up the beach, Dan.”
“Thanks.”
They nod and walk away.
“Let’s eat,” Dan says, moving the tray of food onto his lap and sitting on the bottom end of the chaise lounge. He grabs a sandwich and rips off a chunk with his teeth.
“Um, excuse me, but what was all that about?”
Dan shakes his head as he chews; he’s still seething. After he swallows, he says, “That motherfucking cockface is Ian Glammer.”
“Yes. He introduced himself. Is he making this movie with you? I’m confused.”
Dan shifts. “No!” He shakes his head again. “He and I have been up for several of the same roles for years now, and I’ve been given the really good ones, and he blames me, I guess, but . . .” Dan stops and exhales. “So you know how Len came today to tell me about getting the part of Luke in Sushman’s next movie? Well, it’s honestly this incredible role, so many actors wanted it, and it was such a long shot, but I got it. It looks like Ian found out already that he didn’t, and he’s fucking followed me down here.”
“That’s very stalkerish.”
“Yeah, he’s done it before around L.A., but he’s never followed me to a different country. It’s really unnerving.”
“Why don’t you call the cops or something?”
“He never does anything—just says really off-putting things. Until he actually does something, I can’t ‘do’ anything.”
“Do you think he’ll stay here until you’re done?”
“I wouldn’t doubt it, especially now that he knows you’re with me, and he obviously likes how you look . . .” He says it with a sigh of regret, his eyes shifting from me to stare out across the water.
“Well, I’m not going to go anywhere with him.”
“Here, sit, eat.” He pats the upper part of the chair and hands me a sandwich. “I have to get back soon.”
I sit down as he tears off another mouthful from his sandwich and chews. “Listen, I want you to stay close, okay? You’ll need to come to set with me while you’re here . . . or maybe you should go back home.”
“Go back home? I just got here!”
“I know!” he snaps, but then exhales hard to calm down. “I don’t want you to go, but I need to know you’re okay and safe.”
I put my hand on his forearm. “I’m going to be fine, okay?” I take a bite of the sandwich. He nods. He’s stewing. It’s plain as day on his face—the furrowed brow, the far-off look, the mindless chewing. I need to distract him. “This is a really good sandwich.”
He nods again.
“You’re just pent-up because you didn’t finish this morning.”
His eyes widen in surprise, and it’s all he can do not to spit his food out from laughter.
“And neither did I, for the record.” I shrug playfully.
He finally manages to swallow his food. “I’ll be remedying that for the both of us later.”
“I’m sure I can spare fifteen minutes.”
He laughs. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”
***
For the rest of the afternoon I stay on the beach, reading. I glance around occasionally and see no signs of Ian. I watch Dan from a distance, too, working on the beach. By sunset, he’s done, and we walk back up to the hotel together. From the corner of my eye I notice one of the security guys following behind us. I glance to my right and see Ian down the beach, standing in his bright green shorts and watching us with his hand to his forehead, shading his eyes. He waves, and I want to flip him off, but I don’t.
“I really need a shower,” Dan says as he inserts the hotel key card in the door.
“Me, too.”
“I’m enacting house rule number two.”
“Can the house rules apply outside of a house? Because then they’re not house rules.”
“Well, this is temporarily home, so . . .” He opens the door and allows me to pass.
“Such a rule-follower.” I laugh, and when he turns around after locking the door, I begin untying my bikini. He gapes at me. “You just going to stand there?”
Without a word, he stalks toward me, unties what’s left in a flat second, and hauls me into the shower, our mouths pressed together the whole time. It’s quite impressive.
A long, luxurious while later, we leave the shower, clean and refreshed in every way. I lie on the bed with the towel around me, my hair damp, watching him dig clothes out of his bag.
“Sixteen minutes . . . your stamina is improving. I was worried you were aging too quickly.”
He smirks at me over his shoulder.
Good God, that face.
“I’m just trying to catch up to you, Miss Daisy.”
I laugh and continue to watch him search through his bag, pulling things out and shoving things back in.
“Don’t like to unpack?”
He shrugs. “Eh. Some of my stuff is unpacked. Some is still in here.”
“You have commitment issues, eh?”
He smirks and shakes his head.
“So, are we going out to dinner or staying in?”
His head tilts back in annoyance. “Fuck. I completely forgot. Len wants to go out.”
“Well, he did fly all this way.”
He shrugs and shakes his head. “Yeah, but I would rather have stayed up here with you. I mean, my legs are like rubber after fucking standing up in the shower this whole time. I think I need more muscle recovery time.” He snorts.
“You should really start exercising more, gramps.”
He laughs and we get ready. “You know, I haven’t really talked to Len before,” I say, putting a dressy tank top on.
“No?” Dan says, pulling up his pants. “He’s a good guy with a good heart, even if he’s a little rough around the edges sometimes—helps him do his job well, I think.”
We finish dressing and head out to one of the hot
el’s restaurants where Len, with a drink in hand, is already seated at a table.
“I wondered how long I was going to have to wait for you two rabbits,” Len says with a wink as we’re seated at the table.
Dan laughs, and my face heats up. The waitress takes our drink order.
“So, Claire, are you enjoying it here?” Len asks, his brown eyes curious and sincere. I can tell that between the look in his eyes and the laugh lines well-carved in his cheeks, he’s a soft man at heart . . . even if he wheels and deals in the notorious shark-infested Hollywood waters. Reminds me a lot of Dan, actually. Must be why they work so well together.
“Yes, very much. It’s gorgeous. Did you bring your wife along?”
Len shakes his head. “Nah. She’s happy to get me out of her hair for a few days.” Grinning, he leans in toward me. “Actually, she comes with me often, but I knew this was a quick trip.”
“Why, when are you leaving?” Dan asks after our drinks are delivered and we order dinner.
“Tomorrow morning.”
“Wow, so you really did come all this way just to tell Dan about this role. That’s very respectable, Len.”
Len leans forward, speaking softly. “It’s not just a role, though. It’s the role, Claire. The one that’ll solidify his career. He’ll make a mark, you know?” He smiles proudly at Dan.
Dan’s over the moon. That big ol’ smile of joy mixed with a touch of disbelief is a dead giveaway that he can barely contain his excitement.
The waitress arrives with our drinks.
“I’m so proud of you,” I say to Dan, squeezing his hand.
“He’s worked hard the past few years and has made smart decisions—”
“Despite the advice I’ve been given on occasion.” Dan raises a knowing eyebrow at Len.
Len leans back, grinning, and lets out a snort. “The pool boy movie was a spoof—I told you that—and I still think you would’ve been perfect. You’ve got clumsy down to a science,” Len says with a laugh.