by Harper Bliss
“Thank you all for coming.” Ava made a point of clinking her glass against all four of theirs and making eye-contact while doing so. A part of Charlie melted when it was her turn. Every other woman she’d ever been vaguely interested in, and even the ones she’d had actual relationships with, faded in comparison to the gorgeous woman sitting across from her.
That didn’t take very long, a mocking voice inside her head said. Five minutes in her company and you’re smitten like a teenager. Charlie couldn’t argue. She didn’t want to either. She just wanted to appreciate the elegant way Ava disposed of the bottle and crossed her legs to reveal a bit of smooth thigh through the split in her dress.
Nick had nothing to worry about. Ghosts of her past were very unlikely to haunt her tonight—Jo Cook was all but forgotten. Charlie was perfectly content just reveling in Ava’s grace and beauty.
“How do you like Hollywood?” Ava asked, later, when they sat at the outside dining table. Ava had insisted that Charlie sit facing the ocean. The splendor of Ava Castaneda against the backdrop of the sun setting over the Pacific affected Charlie so deeply she could barely swallow her food.
“It’s… interesting,” Charlie said.
“If you ever need a publicist,” Sandra interjected, “I’m your woman.” She was pleasant enough. She and Eric hadn’t displayed any signs of being involved with each other. Nor had Ava and Eric, for that matter. Perhaps, for once, Charlie wasn’t the only single person at the party.
“I’ve read all the Underground books,” Ava said. “I can’t wait to see what it will look like on TV.”
This took Charlie aback. “You have?”
“Of course. Any book about an all-female, ass-kicking, clandestine spy agency is right up my alley.” Ava fixed Charlie with that look again. “I wasn’t lying when I said I’m a fan. In fact—and no offense to your lovely husband, Nickie—I was delighted when Nick asked if he could bring you tonight instead of Jason.”
“Please, Ava, stop. This one will be unbearable on the way home,” Nick said.
“Are they changing the sexual preference of Aretha from lesbian to straight like Hollywood execs love to do?” Sandra asked.
“Absolutely not.” Charlie shifted position in her chair. “I made it clear from the very beginning of negotiations that no one would get the rights if they had that intention.”
“Hear! Hear!” Nick faux-clapped his fingertips together. “More gays and lesbians on TV!”
“And this is cable, so you know, the limits to what we can show are not as constrained.” Charlie remembered the scene they had constructed in the writers’ room the day before, of the chief spy Aretha questioning a person of interest in a very interesting manner.
“I literally want to bounce up and down in my seat right now. That’s how excited I am.” Ava looked deep into Charlie’s eyes again, and this time, with quite a few glasses of champagne and wine swirling in her blood, Charlie couldn’t keep from blushing when Ava asked, “When is the premiere?”
“I’m not sure I’m allowed to say yet. The network hasn’t released that information.”
“Oh, come on.” Ava snaked her hand across the table and put it on Charlie’s. “Your secret is definitely safe here.”
Charlie couldn’t look away from Ava’s hand cradling hers. She would never be able to wash that particular patch of skin ever again. Ava only let her hand linger briefly, but she was clearly a tactile person who expressed her emotions—and impatience—through lots of hand gestures. Charlie was wise enough not to look for a deeper meaning behind it, but the fire that had been lit when Ava threw her arms around her earlier, flared even higher.
“Okay, well, if you all pledge to not repeat what I’m about to say…” She glanced around the table. Eric looked a bit absentminded, as though not very interested in the TV show Charlie was working on, while Ava and Sandra looked quite excited about it.
“My word is my bond.” Ava presented two out-stretched fingers.
“I’m a publicist. My job is basically keeping other people’s secrets. Usually far dirtier than the premiere date of a much-hyped show. So yes, of course, you have my word,” Sandra said.
“Yes, yes,” Nick said. “Someone on the crew is going to leak this soon, anyway. Just get on with it. No need to make such a fuss.”
Charlie shot him a stern look before speaking. “Negotiations with Elisa have been on-going, and we had a back-up in case she pulled out last minute, so we start shooting the week after next.” Charlie wanted to follow Ava’s example and bounce up and down for a while at the prospect of seeing her words come to life on screen. “The premiere date is approximately seven months from now on Sunday, January seventeenth.
“No.” Ava groaned. “Do I really have to wait that long?”
“I think we all know patience is not even considered a virtue in this town. It’s more a bare necessity,” Eric said.
“Speaking of,” Ava said, “I won’t keep you in suspense about the main course any longer.” She got up and headed for the kitchen.
“Do you need a hand?” Sandra asked.
“No. All my guests ever have to do when they come here is relax,” Ava shouted from the doorway.
The starter had been scallop ceviche, and Charlie was curious as to what Ava had concocted for the main, but she could hardly claim she was hungry. Tipsy, yes. Mesmerized by Ava, for sure. Her stomach was in tatters.
Ava came out of the house carrying the entrée of lamb tagine, and despite her lack of appetite, Charlie finished it to the last morsel. She’d rather face an uncomfortable feeling in her stomach than be impolite by not eating Ava’s food.
“Actually, I may need a hand with bringing out dessert.” Ava looked at Charlie as though she were the only other person at the table. Sandra had gone to wash her hands and Eric and Nick were deep into a discussion about which talent agency was better—TPA or Berkovitz. Charlie had been staring at the sea, floating on a cloud of contentment because of her environment, the delicious food, and the more-than-exquisite company.
“Of course.” She shot out of her chair, her legs numb from sitting too long in the same position, and followed Ava into the kitchen. She’d cast a glance inside earlier on her way to the bathroom, but now that she had the time to properly observe the room, she was blown away by the restaurant-grade kitchen tools and equipment.
“The kitchen is the most important room in my house,” Ava said, obviously noticing Charlie’s bewilderment at how elaborately her kitchen was outfitted.
“I can assure you it’s the least important one in mine,” Charlie blurted out, not really realizing what she was saying. After all, she was alone in a room with Ava. Her brain refused to function under the circumstances.
“Maybe we should try and change that someday,” Ava said with a mischievous smile on her face. “I can teach you some basics if that’s what you’re after.”
What am I after? Charlie had no idea, but if Ava was offering to spend time with her, she would gladly take it. For now, all she could do was chuckle self-consciously.
Ava rummaged in the freezer and unearthed a container of ice cream. “Homemade, of course.” She lifted the lid, and even though Charlie was not very hungry, she couldn’t wait to taste it. “I’m going to put dollops of this in hot coffee, so they’ll need to go out fast. That’s why I asked you to help.”
“Of course. At your service.” Charlie tried to lean against a cabinet nonchalantly. She suspected she was failing miserably. But Ava must be used to silly admirers like Charlie, so, instead of worrying about how she came across, she focused on how swiftly and methodically Ava worked. A few minutes later the first two desserts were ready to go, and Charlie did her best not to trip on the way out.
When she returned, Sandra was in the kitchen with Ava. “I’ve got these, darling,” she said. “Do sit back down.”
The sun had completely set by now, and the ocean was a dark mass against the night sky. Charlie tried to imagine Ava coming out here in the
morning in her robe, enjoying a cup of coffee before starting her day. Perhaps the side of her robe would slip off and display some of the lusciously smooth—
“Here you go.” Ava planted an affogato in front of Charlie. “Enjoy. As of now, it’s my time to fully relax.”
“I thought feeding your friends scrumptious dishes was your way of relaxing,” Nick said.
“It is.” Ava took a bit of ice cream and then licked her spoon in a way Charlie wouldn’t be able to forget any time soon. “But I’m a woman in my mid forties, and I do get tired after dark these days.”
How refreshing, Charlie thought. A working woman in Hollywood who wasn’t ashamed to admit she was over forty. Throughout the evening, Ava had impressed her time and again.
After an elaborate goodbye involving hugs and cheek kisses, Charlie found herself in the backseat of Nick’s car again.
“And they say you should never meet your heroes,” she mused. “They—whoever ‘they’ are—are so very wrong.”
“How’s that crush of yours evolving, Charlie?” Nick asked. “Not going away anytime soon, I take it?”
“I didn’t even know people like her exist in real life. I have to revise my position on make-believe in this town.” Charlie sighed. “She’s perfect. She has zero faults, making the rest of us look like frumpy, unaccomplished wannabes at life.”
“Speak for yourself.” Nick playfully punched her in the arm. “I consider myself fairly accomplished.”
There were so many things Charlie could say, but she didn’t have the energy for it. All the vigor she had left in her for the day went to conjuring up the image of Ava licking a dessert spoon.
CHAPTER FOUR
“Do we really need to go to this thing?” Charlie asked Liz. The network had sent a car for them, and they were cruising over Mulholland Drive, up to one of the most lavish mansions in the hills.
“You don’t. You’re Charlie Cross. You’re basically going to make this guy a shitload of money. However, I do.” Liz patted Charlie on the knee. “Thank you for helping me suck up to my employer, buddy.” Liz batted her eyelashes. “You can ask me for anything you want in return.”
“You introduced me to the great sport of softball. So I actually owe you.” Charlie looked at Liz. She had one of the friendliest faces she’d encountered in LA, and Charlie was lucky to count her among the few friends she had here.
“I’m not a big fan of schmooze fests like this either, but I’m just over the moon I actually get to go.” Liz’s voice was growing more excited. Abe Eisenberg, the CEO of EBC was having a big shindig to celebrate his fiftieth birthday and had invited half of Hollywood.
The car took a few turns then came to a stop. “Get your smile on, Lizzie.” Charlie exited the car through the passenger door which had been opened from the outside for them.
“Wowzers,” Liz said. She was wearing her super fancy blazer for the occasion.
“I know.” Charlie took in the magnificently lit up house in front of her. Jo would have loved being her plus-one for this because she’d be allowed to wander freely and investigate the work of a top-notch interior designer. “This is just obscene.”
A man dressed in a tuxedo escorted them inside, where the party seemed to be in full swing already.
“Let’s see who we know.” Liz scanned the living room.
Charlie glanced around. This room was at least twice as big as the spacious loft she’d shared with Jo in New York.
“There’s Michelle.” Liz jabbed Charlie in the arm. “Let’s go say hello to our esteemed showrunner.”
On the way over, they were offered champagne and Charlie drank greedily. It was strange to be invited to the birthday party—and his fiftieth no less—of a man she barely knew. She’d met Eisenberg a few times, but he’d invited the entire writing staff of Underground and probably every other EBC show.
“I hear he’ll be having five parties,” Michelle said. “This is the first one. The warm-up, I guess.”
“It’s so nice of him to invite us here. This place is crazy,” Liz said. Her wide eyes grew even wider as she gazed around the room again. For the most part, the furniture was white with a few dashes of turquoise and darker blue as accents.
“Have you been outside?” Michelle asked. “I think a hundred people can swim in that pool simultaneously.”
“We must go check that out.” Liz finished her champagne and, as if by magic, was immediately offered another. “Are you coming, Charlie?”
Charlie drained her glass and happily accepted a fresh one. They made their way through a throng of people Charlie had never seen before. On the other side of the living room, glass doors had been slid open and the inside of the house seamlessly transitioned into the outside to reveal a lush, elegantly lit garden with a huge pool and a spectacular view over the city.
“Jesus,” Charlie whispered.
“Elisa Fox probably lives in a crib like this,” Liz said. “If we play our cards right, we might get invited.”
“Charlie?” a voice Charlie didn’t immediately recognize, said her name. “Sandra, remember?” Sandra, Ava Castaneda’s friend and agent, took her by the shoulders and pecked Charlie very lightly on the cheeks.
Of course Charlie remembered. Every little detail of last Saturday was etched in her memory forever. Charlie introduced Sandra to Liz and they exchanged a few pleasantries.
“Abe and I—” Sandra started to say, but was interrupted by a voice Charlie would easily recognize out of a million.
“Charlie!” Ava said and, in true Hollywood fashion, threw her arms around Charlie as though they’d been friends forever instead of having shared one meal together. Not that Charlie minded in the least. Ava’s hug was far too brief for her liking. Though the evening was looking up—greatly.
After introducing Ava to Liz, Charlie asked her, “How come you’re invited to the D-list party?”
“Oh, I wasn’t even invited,” Ava said. “I came as Sandra’s plus-one.” Ava didn’t seem to mind this fact in the slightest and shot Charlie a big grin. She was dressed in an informal orange dress that made the amber flecks in her eyes stand out. The slim straps of the dress accentuated Ava’s square shoulder line in a way that made Charlie salivate.
“Ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention, please?” a voice announced over the sound system. “The entertainment has arrived.”
The soft lounge music that had been playing was replaced by a Bollywood tune and a dozen dancers clad in brightly colored robes emerged from the dark recesses of the garden.
“Oh yes,” Ava shouted over the music. “I love this.” Her hips started swaying to the beat.
Everyone gathered on the patio between the house and the swimming pool and looked on as the dancers performed a very intricate dance.
“How about you, Charlie?” Ava whispered in her ear. “Do you like to dance?”
Charlie was standing between Ava and Liz and their body heat radiated onto her skin. Charlie looked into Ava’s dark eyes, and, though taken aback by the question, tried to add some swagger to her voice. “I have some moves.”
Ava quirked up her eyebrows. “I’d like to see those some time.” She shot Charlie a quick wink and redirected her attention to the dancers while swaying her hips with a bit more abandon—seemingly not caring that she frequently brushed against Charlie’s side while doing so. Charlie, on the other hand, cared a great deal.
The dancers performed two numbers to grand applause from the crowd, after which Abe took the floor and made a speech. Charlie tried to listen, but all she could focus on was the way she felt with Ava standing so close to her.
“I’m going to find Michelle. I need to ask her something,” Liz said when the crowd broke apart after Eisenberg’s speech. Liz stared at Charlie a fraction longer than was necessary when making a simple announcement like that, then turned on her heels and left Charlie alone with Ava.
“Now would be the perfect time to bust some moves,” Ava said. The music had come back
on, playing a sixties soul song that Charlie couldn’t remember the title of.
Charlie looked around for Sandra, but she was deep in conversation with a woman Charlie recognized from meetings with EBC.
“Come on, Charlie. Show me what you’ve got.” Ava grabbed her by the wrist and dragged her onto the corner of the patio that doubled as a dance floor. A few brave people were already gyrating their hips and throwing their hands in the air. Ava let go of Charlie’s hand and joined them, flipping her long hair from left to right as she found the beat.
Charlie had no choice. She had to dance with Ava. It was hardly a chore. Charlie started moving to the rhythm of the music and inched closer and closer to Ava. Perhaps this song would be followed by a slow one and—
“I love this song,” Ava said. Her dress whipped up and down as she danced, revealing some knee and, once in a while, a little bit of thigh. They danced alongside each other wordlessly for another song. When Charlie spotted a waiter with a full tray of glasses she grabbed two and offered one to Ava.
“The most fun I’ve had on an ordinary Thursday night in a long time,” Charlie said.
“You do have moves, Charlie,” Ava said.
“Not too bad yourself.” Only last night, Charlie had watched a re-run of Knives Out, comparing how Ava licked her spoon on TV to how she did it in real life.
“Do you want to sit down for a bit?” Ava asked.
“Sure.” Instead of heading to the cluster of tables skirting the patio, Ava led her in the direction of the swimming pool where two sun loungers sat side by side.
Ava draped herself onto one in an elegant fashion Charlie could only aspire to. Charlie sat and twirled her glass between her fingers.
“I started reading Crying Rivers again,” Ava said. “It’s a different experience to read a book when you’ve met the author.”
“I watched a re-run of Knives Out last night,” Charlie said. “I agree. Also a totally different experience.”
Ava laughed. “It’s hardly the same.” Her head rested on her palm and she looked so relaxed.