“Oh yes? What did he say?”
“He wants to meet up to talk some more.”
“Are you interested?”
“I don’t know. Guess I’d like to hear what he says, although I don’t know why he can’t do it over the damn phone.”
I shrugged. “Maybe it’s a power play—he wants you on his territory. Maybe he just knows a nice restaurant and he wants to sweet talk you over the appetizers.”
Kes smirked at me. “Whatever. Do you want to go?”
“Am I invited?”
“I’m inviting you.”
I held in a smile at the stubborn expression on his face. “Fine, I’ll come. What about Zach?”
“Yeah, he’ll be there.”
“Great, when?”
“We’ll leave in an hour,” Kes said casually.
“What?!” I screeched. “Why the hell are you just telling me now? I don’t have anything to wear!”
Kes laughed at me. The bastard outright laughed at me.
“Jeez, Aimee! You have two freakin’ suitcases of clothes and the whole closet is full of your stuff. Just pick something!”
I ignored him, Stupid know-nothing man, and tore through my clothes, trying to find something suitable to wear in front of Mr. Moneybags. Everything was hopelessly creased and I was almost in despair.
Kes strolled in and leaned against the door.
“Wear jeans,” he said.
“What? This meeting is in Beverly Hills—the watch that guy wore cost more than your RV.”
“Our RV,” Kes said patiently.
“You know what I mean!”
“Wear jeans. I’ve got something I want to do after.”
“What about Zach? He’s supposed to be flying out of LAX today?”
Zach was flying up to San Francisco to spend some quality time with Luke.
Kes shrugged. “He switched to an evening flight.”
Then he sauntered out of the room and I felt like throwing my pants at him. I didn’t because that would be childish and I was an adult—but I really, really wanted to.
In the end, I shimmied into my favorite clubbing jeans, along with one of the white shirts I wore for teaching. Then a good pair of heels, straightened my hair, and carefully applied makeup.
I stared in the mirror. I looked ordinary. Not the kind of woman who should stand next to Kestrel Hawkins, Hollywood Stuntman.
I shook my head, disappointed in myself. Kes loved me as I was; that should be enough.
Kes’s eyes roved along my body as they always did. The heat in his eyes told me that he wanted me, that he’d always want me. I smiled and started to relax.
Then he hooked his fingers into my belt loops and pulled me toward him.
“Hmm, lookin’ mighty sexy, Ms Andersen. Who are you trying to impress today?”
“You,” I said, resting my hands on his shoulders.
He glanced down at my cleavage and slowly pushed open the top two buttons of my shirt.
“Kes?”
He pulled out my Ferris wheel necklace as an answer, making sure it was on show.
“Just so everyone knows you’re mine,” he said simply.
I smiled at his response. I doubted whether anyone would make the connection between my Ferris wheel necklace and our relationship, but that wasn’t the point. He deserved a kiss for being so sweet—and a smack on the butt for being so possessive. He got both.
Zach was waiting for us in his truck. I slid in next to him, and Kes sat beside me on the bench seat.
“Beverly Hills here we come,” breathed Zach.
Kes was the only one who didn’t seem affected.
It took us almost two hours to get to Beverly Hills. Zach and Kes talked about various bookings they were considering for the Spring season. A couple of new offers had come in on the east coast, but the logistics of getting the rig there were tricky. Zach was looking into hiring what they needed and flying the team out there, but Kes was antsy about using equipment he wasn’t familiar with.
I spent my time listening, picking up more information about the Daredevils’ business, as well as staring out of the window at the passing scenery. It was so different from New Hampshire—yellow and brown dust rose in small clouds, and scrubby green trees stood out against the desert landscape. Those soon gave way to stark warehouses and rows of houses as the traffic increased the closer we got to the city. The GPS took us through Chinatown and Koreatown, then right through West Hollywood.
“Look to the right, Aimee,” Zach said, interrupted my musings.
“Oh my God! I can see the Hollywood sign!” I cried out, almost leaning into Kes’s lap to get a better look. “Can you see it?”
Kes took a quick look and grinned at me. “Yep.”
It was exciting and felt like being on a giant movie set.
Seymour Michaels’ office was right on Santa Monica Boulevard. The lot outside was full of expensive cars, but there were several other trucks, as well, so I guess we didn’t look too out of place, even if I felt it.
Kes helped me from the truck, trying not to smile—and failing miserably—as I stumbled in my high heels.
He put his arm around my shoulders and we walked into the office.
Immediately, I felt woefully underdressed, a fact that the receptionist didn’t even try to hide. It didn’t stop her from eye-fucking my boyfriend, and when she deigned to speak, it was to him.
Zach winked at me, which made me a little feel better.
“May I help you?”
“Kestrel Hawkins to see Seymour Michaels,” Zach said politely. “I’m Zachary Wade, his manager and this is . . .”
“Just one moment, Mr. Hawkins, Mr. Wade,” she said, cutting him off before he got a chance to introduce me.
Kes looked irritated, but Zach gave a small shake of his head.
The receptionist made a quick call, then typed into her computer and printed out two visitor passes.
Kes glared at her. “We need another pass.”
“Excuse me?”
“You’ve only given us two passes and there are three of us.”
“The appointment is for two people,” she sneered, her eyes dismissing me.
Kes dropped his pass on her desk and headed for the door.
“Mr. Hawkins? Mr. Michaels said he’d just be a minute, so . . .”
Kes ignored her and pulled open the door, holding it for me. We all marched back out to the truck.
“You don’t have to leave on my account,” I said breathlessly, a little stunned and a lot happy that he’d do this for me.
Kes grunted, while Zach beeped open the truck doors.
The receptionist came running after us. Spitefully, I was pleased to see her tottering in her sky-high heels and ridiculously tight skirt.
“Mr. Hawkins, your appointment!”
He turned on her angrily.
“Do you get off on treating people like shit?”
“Wh-what?”
“You completely dissed my girlfriend in there. You cut my friend off mid-sentence. What is your fucking problem?”
“I . . . I was told that only two people were coming.”
“And three is too many for building regs?” Kes said disgustedly, turning his back on her.
“I’m sorry,” she said breathlessly. “Please forgive me. Of course I can make another visitor pass for Miss, um, Miss . . . ?”
“Andersen,” I said, meeting her reluctant gaze.
“Of course,” she said, with a look that could have frozen helium. “Please, if you’ll follow me back inside.”
She kept glancing over her shoulder, probably terrified we weren’t following and that she’d be fired.
We all traipsed back inside, watching as she prepared another pass, obviously flustered. Then another woman ushered us up to the top floor office.
Michaels’ manners were far smoother than his receptionist’s, and he greeted me with practiced pleasure as if he’d been expecting me, then introduced us to four o
ther men and one woman who were seated around a large slab of oak in the center of a lavish boardroom.
“Delighted to see you again, Miss Andersen, Mr. Wade and, of course, Mr. Hawkins. Have you been offered refreshments?”
A young guy in a suit hurried to fill our water glasses when we all declined anything else.
“So, I’m sure you’ve been wondering why I’ve invited you here today.”
Zach sat upright, looking alert, and I tried not to fidget, but Kes was staring out of the window, already bored.
“Stuntmen—and women—are the unsung heroes of Hollywood, so we’ve decided to put them right at the center of the action, where they belong. Our aim is to bring the work behind the stunts, and the faces behind the stunts, directly to the audience. You only have to look at audiences watching Jackie Chan out-takes to see people eat that up. So our plan is to showcase the best stunt work going on in the industry today. We’ll have the fastest, the highest, the most hair-raising, death-defying stunts ever seen. But we’ll show the work behind the stunts, too, the men and women who put their lives on the line to make Hollywood great. This movie will be on general release, and we’re confident we can open nationwide.
“Kestrel,” he continued, “we’ll make you a star. An even bigger star than you are already. Who knows where this could go for you!”
Michaels sat back looking pleased with his pitch, and I had to admit it sounded really exciting.
Then Michaels’ colleagues took us through a presentation of the other stuntmen and women who would also be involved in the project.
Kes perked up slightly when they showed a clip of some of the most electrifying stunts. But as soon as it reverted to words on a screen, he switched off, bored again. His knees gave him away, bouncing up and down, and he was lost inside his head.
Zach nudged him when Michaels asked what he thought.
Kes shrugged. “I’m not a movie stuntman and I’m not a member of the Stuntmen’s Association of Motion Pictures.”
I could tell that they were baffled by his lukewarm response.
“I’m sure that won’t be a problem,” Michaels said dismissively. “Membership is by invitation only, but we can arrange that. It’s common knowledge in the stunt world that you’re going to attempt the World Record again—we want you on board, so we’ll make it happen.”
Zach shot Kes a look, and I could tell that he was interested.
“What about personal sh— stuff?” Kes said.
I knew why Kes was asking that. He didn’t want any intrusion into his private life.
“Well, there’ll be the usual round of interviews to promote the movie, of course. That’ll be contractual. I understand that you grew up in a carnival—I’m sure the public will be interested to know about that.”
I thought Kes was going to say no immediately when I felt him tense next to me, but Zach spoke up first.
“This sounds like an amazing opportunity,” he said, schmoozing with the best of them. “If you could let us have a copy of the contract, we’ll have Mr. Hawkins’ lawyer go through it.”
Michaels laughed easily. “We’re not at contracts yet; we just want to know that Mr. Hawkins is interested in the concept.”
All eyes turned to Kes.
“I’m interested,” he said at last, just as the other people in the room were beginning to twitch.
I had to hold in a smile—Kes could play the boardroom game, not the least bit intimidated by the wealth and power manifested here.
“Well, that’s good news,” said Michaels, and I thought he seemed the tiniest bit relieved. “When are you planning to attempt the World Record?”
Zach answered for him. “We don’t have a definite date, but we’ll let you know when we’ve fine-tuned the plans.”
Michaels nodded. “Of course, excellent. Well, perhaps I can take you all to lunch to celebrate?”
Kes shook his head. “Thanks, but we’ve got somewhere else to be.”
“Ah, that’s a shame. Maybe next time? It would be a pleasure to take you and the lovely Miss Andersen to dinner—at Spago’s say?”
Michaels was good, I’d give him that. Kes had two weak spots: his family, whether carnie- or blood-related, and me.
Kes smiled and wrapped his arm around me possessively. “Sounds good.”
Then everyone stood up and shook hands.
I wasn’t quite sure what to make of the meeting. Kes seemed to have gone out of his way to seem uninterested, bored even. I could see the concern in the executives’ eyes that the stuntman who was about to go for a second World Record might just be walking away from them. I didn’t know what game Kes was playing, but I was pretty damn certain he hadn’t behaved that way without a good reason.
As we were leaving the boardroom, Michaels said to Kes, “I heard a rumor that you were something of an acrobat in your youth, Kestrel. Well, more than a rumor: I admit I found some footage on the internet of one of your early performances when you were still on horseback. Very impressive for one so young.”
“Yeah?” Kes said, without much interest.
I sort of loved how Kes didn’t care about impressing this man, even though he was a top Hollywood producer.
Zach laughed. “It was even more impressive when you were there.”
“Yes,” I agreed. “As soon as Ollo started with the drumbeat, I got chills.”
Kes grinned at me and squeezed my ass, making me jump.
“That the only thing that gave you chills, baby?”
“Stop it,” I said, pushing his shoulder, my cheeks flaming with embarrassment.
“I’d have to agree,” Michaels said, still smiling with his $50,000 teeth. “It’s the sense of theater you bring to your show, Kestrel. A lot of stuntmen are technicians, and it’s the director who brings out the performance—that’s where you’re different. Perhaps we can think of a way to incorporate some of those acrobatics into the movie.”
“Aimee likes my acrobatics,” Kes smirked, and then he winked at me.
My cheeks overheated and I really wanted to hit him because all the executives smiled at me knowingly. “Kes!” I hissed, shocked and upset.
I had no idea why he was being so inappropriate. But he laughed as we walked out into the long hallway, grinning at me over his shoulder, then with a short run-up, did a front handspring down the length of the hallway. Beautiful asshole.
Michaels’ mouth dropped open and the other executives were dumbfounded. Zach smiled politely at the movie producer.
“Kes is a showman,” Zach said simply, trying not to laugh at Michaels’ stunned expression.
“The hell you say! Someone tell me they got that on camera!”
All the executives shook their heads, and Michaels scowled.
“Uh, maybe your security cameras?” I said, pointing up at a tiny camera near the ceiling.
“Yes!” Michaels crowed. “Very observant, Miss Andersen,” and his gaze was thoughtful as he looked at me.
I wanted to squirm under his scrutiny, but I held my head up and smiled back, trying to ignore the fact that my boyfriend had groped me in front of these people.
“Aimee!” Kes yelled from the end of the corridor. “Get your beautiful butt in gear—we’ve got places to be!”
I wanted to disappear into the carpet, but Michaels sighed, a glimmer of nascent respect in his eyes.
“Oh, to have youth and energy. I can tell it’s going to be quite a ride. Well, it was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Andersen, Mr. Wade.”
Then he waved at Kes and disappeared back into the boardroom.
When I reached Kes, I punched his arm.
“You deliberately embarrassed me!”
He grinned. “Gotta say, seeing you all pink and flushed turns me on.”
Zach walked up behind us. “Really, Kestrel? What the fu— what was that back in there?”
Kes smiled coldly. “Assholes thought we’d be easy to snow; dumb as shit stuntman who’s landed on his head too many times. I wanted them
off balance. If they don’t know what to expect, they’ll be careful and they won’t have the upper hand. That’s how it works.”
My mouth dropped open. “You . . . you were acting the entire time? That whole bored shtick?”
Kes just smiled while Zach shook his head.
“Can’t con a carnie.”
“You should have told me you were going to do that,” I said quietly, really upset.
Kes draped his arm around my shoulder. “Aimee, you can’t act for shit. Everything you feel is written on your face. You’re fucking cute when you’re annoyed.”
“You deliberately embarrassed me!” I snapped, anger overtaking hurt.
“Ah, come on,” he purred, trying to kiss my neck.
“No! I’m really pissed at you, Kes!”
We rode the elevator in silence and I stalked out of the building, tossing my visitor’s pass at the tight-mouthed receptionist, ignoring her artificial wishes to ‘have a nice day.’ With every step, my sense of anger and outrage grew.
Kes followed me outside, still grinning; Zach beeped open his truck door, but was smart enough to take his time walking over.
I yanked open the door, but Kes pushed it shut, pinning me against the truck.
“Are you mad?” he asked, his broad grin slipping slightly.
“Oh yes, good and mad,” I said, seething.
“Why?”
“You humiliated me in front of that man!” I snapped. “You’re supposed to be so damn smart—can’t con a carnie, right? But it’s okay to con me; it’s okay to lie to me.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?”
“You!” I shouted, jabbing my finger into his chest, making him take half a step back. “All that sexual innuendo just to make them feel uncomfortable! How do you think I felt with you talking about me like that in front of strangers? Come on, Mr. I-can-read-the-rubes! How did I feel?”
“Ah fuck, Aimee,” he said, his voice dropping. “Don’t take it so seriously. Having you there made them think I was an amateur, so they showed their hand more than they would have otherwise. It was playing the game, that’s all, for fuck’s sake.”
“It was a fucking business meeting, Kes! You may as well have had a blow-up doll sitting next to you for all the respect you showed me, grabbing my ass in front of them. You used me! I was just part of your act—a goddamn prop!”
The Traveling Woman Page 17