Chemistry

by Tess Oliver

  "You heard that all the way down there? Cool," I said proudly. I pushed to sitting and propped my pillows up against the headboard to act as a comfy dining chair.

  "Yeah, next I'll be catching you scratching your ass and burping." She stopped ten feet from the bed, holding a grease stained bag in one hand and a blue cup, wet with condensation, in the other. "You look like shit and you're starting to smell like it too." She glanced at my nightstand that was cluttered with empty food wrappers, drained glasses and cups and dirty napkins.

  "Thanks, then my goal has been reached. Shitty appearance and smell to go with my shitty life." I patted my blanket covered lap. "Now, bring me that greasy burger."

  She held the bag up. "This greasy burger?"

  "Yeah, unless you have another one hidden behind ya." I leaned over to look past her. I patted my lap again. "Right here on my T.V. tray please."

  "Nope. I don't want to be an enabler. I'm going to take this downstairs and put it on a plate so you can eat it like a member of society. But for fucksake, brush your hair and teeth and a few other parts before you come down." She headed out.

  "No shame in being an enabler. And I'm no longer a member of society," I called to her as she walked down the stairs. Then her small feet seemed to be ascending rather than descending.

  She poked her head into the room. I grinned and patted my lap again. "I knew you'd come to your senses," I said.

  "Yep, but not about the dinner. You need to hurry and eat so we can get you ready for your meeting." She withdrew her head, leaving me confused and still hungry.

  "Wait, what meeting?" I muttered to myself. Her strange comment had at least given me the impetus to throw off the covers and climb out of bed. Most likely her plan all along. I nearly climbed back in, deciding it was all a trick, but then walked on heavy, sleepy legs to the landing. (Missing a few days of yoga sure took its toll) Shelby had just reached the bottom of the stairs.

  "What meeting or are you just saying that to get me out of bed?"

  She stopped and peered up at me. "A little of both. Sawyer Croft is coming here to talk to you about a project. He'll be here in an hour, so get your ass down here and eat."

  "So this was a trick. You're ruthless. I thought enablers were nicer."

  "I'm not bullshitting you," Shelby said with a chuckle. "Sawyer Croft, director extraordinaire of none other than your big hit Forever Kisses, is coming here, to your house, in an hour."

  The aroma of onions drew me down the stairs. "What could he possibly want? I haven't talked to him in two years." I snatched the shake from her hand. "Maybe he's got Kent secretly signed up for a big movie, and he's coming over here to chew me out."

  "That's the stupidest thing you could possibly think of so stop thinking stupid things and eat." She put the bag on the table and walked to the cupboard for a plate.

  I didn't wait and unwrapped the burger. Pieces of lettuce fell on the table and a drip of mayo went down my chin. Shelby put the plate down pointedly and put her hands on her hips. "One wedding gone bad and you've turned into my Uncle Frank. He eats burgers in two bites. Hurry up. We need to get you upstairs and hosed off before Sawyer arrives."

  Seven

  Kinsey

  It turned out the last thing I needed before an unexpected meeting with a big Hollywood director was a greasy burger. Especially considering my stomach had hovered between upset and ravenous for the past three days.

  A forty minute shower, however, was just what the doctor ordered. I came down the stairs in my jeans and favorite black t-shirt feeling like a new woman, or at least like a woman who hadn't just spent three days in bed. While I'd been busy hosing off, Shelby had tidied up and put on a fresh pot of coffee. The aroma helped rejuvenate me even more.

  Throughout the long session of washing the wedding hair spray out of my hair, I'd reminded myself not to get too excited about Sawyer's visit. Even though I hadn't worked with Sawyer since Forever Kisses, we had remained friends for the first few years after the movie's big success. Something like that draws people together. None of us had expected the movie to be so insanely popular. For the first few years, it felt like a dream, but, eventually, other big movies slipped into phenomenal success pushing the old movies down into cult classic territory. Which was where Forever Kisses, with its charming teen romance, occasionally cheesy dialogue and outdated music, had settled. And while our friendship never ended, it definitely drifted into history.

  Shelby's fingers were flying over her phone, finishing a text when I walked into the kitchen. She glanced up, looked back at her phone and then popped her head up again. "There she is—there's that beautiful, statuesque brunette who I call my best friend. I thought I'd lost her forever to bed head and morning breath. I made some coffee." She pointed to the pot as though I'd forgotten my own kitchen layout during my hiatus from reality.

  "I'm good. It turns out sleeping twenty hours a day for three days leaves you pretty rested. No wonder cats are so chill about everything."

  She poured herself a cup while I got a glass of ice water. "Sure wish I knew what Sawyer wanted. I've been blindsided once this week by a man. I don't think I could stand it again. I'm still worried he has Kent signed for some future movie and he's coming to yell at me." I sipped some ice water and sighed with relief. Three days in bed without drinking my regular supply of water had left me dehydrated. "Although, Sawyer isn't really the yelling kind of guy. He's more subtle when he's pissed, and his eyebrows bunch up like caterpillars humping."

  I hadn't seen Sawyer in person for several years, but recent pictures assured me he hadn't aged much since Kisses, even though he had certainly passed the forty year mark. He still wore a ponytail and neatly trimmed beard. On the set of Forever Kisses, he was always chewing a toothpick, a habit he used to avoid picking up a cigarette. Considering he was, at that time, trying to kick the nicotine habit, he was pretty mellow. I was thankful and lucky to have such a cool, smart mentor as my first director.

  The doorbell, my very familiar doorbell, startled me. Ice water spilled down the front of my t-shirt. "Damnit." I put the glass down and clumsily wiped at the water.

  Shelby had crossed the floor without me noticing. She took hold of my wrist. "You can't see it on the black shirt, and would you settle down those nerves, please? You're making me twitchy." She stared into her empty cup. "Though that could be because I've had three cups since you went up to shower." She stared at me, unblinkingly. "Do you want me to answer it, or are you going to just stand here and hyperventilate as you come up with all the crazy theories about his visit?"

  I smoothed my t-shirt and took a deep breath. "Nope, I'll get it. Do you want to smell my breath to make sure I erased three days of bed breath?"

  "No, no I do not. We'll just have to assume the mouthwash and toothpaste did the trick."

  I walked to the door, glanced once in the mirror I had hanging in the entry and quickly decided I was pale enough to be a vampire. I pinched my cheeks, pushed up a smile and swung open the door. Santa Ana winds had been blowing all evening and hot, dry air ushered in.

  "Sawyer," I said cheerily. Still the same man, only a touch older as evidenced by the silver threads running through his black ponytail and beard. He'd added a platinum hoop earring to his somewhat pirate-y look.

  "Hey, Kiki." He lifted his arms for a hug, but his cocoa brown eyes quickly assessed me from head to toe before we embraced. He stepped back and smiled. "You look great."

  "So do you." I stepped back and motioned him inside. "There's some coffee brewing in the kitchen. I'm afraid my wet bar is rather shabby at the moment. I used up all the good stuff during the rehearsal din—" My voice trailed off. I wondered how often the stupid fucking wedding was still going to come up in everyday conversations. After all, I'd been living, breathing and sleeping wedding plans for the past year.

  Sawyer patted my arm. "That's all right. You're not the first person to have a wedding go south before the vows were even given. Although, I guess in your case, it w
ent south during the vows." He peered over at me as we walked to the living room. "Bravo on that speech, by the way. I noticed today it already had four million views."

  A short, dry laugh escaped me. "That's three million and ninety more than my last movie. Coffee?" I asked as he sat down.

  "No, I'm fine. There was a car in the driveway," he noted. "Shelby?"

  "Yep, the best friend a jilted bride could have."

  Shelby walked out right then with her keys in hand. Sawyer hopped up to greet her and say hello. I walked her to the door. She mouthed the words 'call me' on her way out.

  Since we'd already covered my wedding speech and there were no scornful looks or words tossed about, I relaxed some, deciding he hadn't come by to chew me out.

  Sawyer was sitting forward, his forearms resting on his thighs as he texted someone. He put the phone in his pocket when I stepped into the room. "Daniella wants to go out with a boy this weekend, and she's driving me nuts about my decision."

  I sat in the big chair next to the couch. "I can't believe she's already old enough to date." I quickly tried to do the math in my head. Daniella, Sawyer's pride and joy, a bubbly little seven-year-old, spent a great deal of time on set in between sessions with her private tutor. She followed Jameson around like a lovesick puppy and drew him pictures, which he always made a point of hanging on his dressing room wall.

  "She's not. Although, Cindy and I have had a lot of debate about it with her falling on the more progressive parent side. Suddenly, I'm an old man ready to take his shotgun out of the closet to scare off any prospective suitors," Sawyer said as he tucked the phone away. "As far as I'm concerned, she can just sit out dating until she's twenty five."

  I laughed. "Now, that doesn't sound at all like the hip, cool Sawyer Croft I once knew."

  He grinned faintly. "Guess fatherhood erases any traces of hip or cool." He clapped lightly once and finished the clap by rubbing his hands together. "Anyhow, I didn't come here to whine about my parenting woes." His dark eyes twinkled as he smiled my direction. "I came to talk to you about a movie part. I've got a crazy idea, something that popped into my head after I saw the viral videos of your wedding."

  I cleared my throat as if about to say something important. "Non-wedding, if you don't mind. Or maybe anti-wedding. Not sure which negative prefix works best. Don't tell me you want to make a movie about my humiliating day."

  "No, of course not." He rubbed the stubble on his chin. "Although—"

  "Sawyer, I couldn't possible relive that nightmare. Even on a movie set."

  "No, you're right. Besides, I couldn't produce anything better than the real thing." He winked. "Classic Kiki." He relaxed back against the couch. "The viral video that got me thinking was the one with the protesters outside the venue. The Forever Kisses fans who insisted you were marrying the wrong man."

  I laughed dryly. "Seems they were right but I don't understand where this is leading. Don't tell my you're thinking of a sequel."

  "No, when you make a cult classic, you should never destroy its legacy with a crappy, half-assed sequel. This is something entirely different. I assume you read that book that was number one on the charts for months last year, Diary of a Mail Order Bride?"

  "Shelby gave me her copy after she read it. Told me I absolutely had to read it, but I was so bogged down with work, it landed on my bookshelf with the rows of other books that I absolutely had to read but haven't found the time for."

  A terse gust of hot Santa Ana wind pushed against the house, causing the privet shrubs to scratch the front window.

  "Well, Cindy read it before it shot up the charts. She gave it to me to read. I instantly swooped in and bought the movie rights. I've been sort of sitting on it, waiting for something inspirational to hit me to get the project moving. That's where your uninvited wedding guests come in."

  "You're getting inspiration from delusional moviegoers who think that Katy and Jake were real people?"

  "Yep." He stood up from the couch and walked over to the front window. He glanced out at the swaying palm trees and the city lights below before turning back to me. "People want to see Jameson Slate and Kinsey Greene back on the screen together. That movie isn't a forever classic because of the simple dialogue or shabby storyline. It's a classic because the two of you had sizzling chemistry together, the likes of which I have never seen replicated on any other movie set. Shit, Kiki, the camera lenses were practically melting with the heat coming off of you two."

  A half-hearted laugh tumbled from my mouth. "That was due to the raging teenage hormones. I think we've both matured a little since then." Just the thought of being on set with Jameson again sent a shockwave of nerves through me. I discretely took a panicked breath. It was a physical reaction I hadn't expected but then I also hadn't anticipated Sawyer's crazy ass idea.

  I rose from the chair, suddenly needing to get anxious energy out. (Could have been the three days in bed where the most energy expenditure came from getting up to go pee.) I headed across the room to the wet bar, but the sight of a half-empty tequila bottle made my stomach churn. I turned back around.

  Sawyer walked back to the couch and sat. "I think we can recreate that same magic."

  I snuck in another anxious breath and headed back to the chair. "As much as I would love the part, I don't think it would work between Jameson and me. Plus, after Forever Kisses gained him a bunch of teenage groupies, he decided to avoid romantic movies. Chick flicks, as you guys call them. He's only starring in action and adventure these days. I haven't read the book, but I imagine it's mostly a romance."

  "The relationship is a big part of it but there's a lot more." He tipped his head side to side causing his platinum earring to twinkle in the overhead lights. "Guess you really don't know much about it." He rested back. "The book is a series of diary entries from a young woman, Cassandra Youngston, who lived during the Great Depression. Her father, Martin Youngston, was an ultra rich east coast banker, a cold, ruthless man. When the market crashed, he lost everything except his second wife and daughter. So, being a greedy fucker, he found a way to cash in on what he had, namely his well bred, educated, somewhat spoiled daughter. When he heard word that a farmer in Nebraska, Thomas Biggs, was looking to trade some of the bars of gold his family had hoarded in a farm bunker for a young, healthy wife, Martin jumped on the opportunity. Cassandra chronicled the entire thing. It's witty, poignant and there's plenty of tragedy. Half the book takes place during the Dust Bowl."

  "Apparently, the guy couldn't find a wife with looks and charm so he had to buy one. What makes you think Jameson would want to step into a role like that?"

  Sawyer grinned. "That's where the big twist comes in. As you've already concluded, Cassie discovers quickly that Thomas was somewhat of an asshole. She arrives at the farm and falls in love with his younger brother, Nate."

  "So, not only does Cassie have to struggle with life on a farm, she has to deny herself true love because she's married to a jerk." I nodded. "Sounds like an awesome plot. I guess the big question is—what did Jameson say when you brought it up?"

  Sawyer's face dropped immediately and he avoided eye contact.

  "You haven't even asked him," I answered for him. "Because you know he's going to say no. And you only want me if Jameson plays the male lead," I added. Even from my own mouth, that statement fell around my shoulders like a lead blanket. The reality was he came because he wanted to recreate something that was not meant to be repeated. It was a one-time thing, a fluke, an anomaly of nature. Jameson and I no longer had a connection. We hadn't spoken in years. I'd thought of him plenty, but I'd never considered the two of us playing opposite again.

  "The two of you together would make this project fly." He lifted his face. "Let me take care of Jameson." He stood from the couch. "I talked to Marley this morning," he confessed, somewhat sheepishly. "I know you're in need of a good part. Think about it, Kiki." He got up, and I walked him to the door.

  Shelby, as if psychic, texted me the secon
d he walked out. "Well? Well? Well?"

  I texted right back. "Well, well, well is right. Get your skinny butt back over here. I've got news, just not sure if it's good or bad or maybe somewhere in between."

  "Be there in five . . . or an hour if there's traffic. Gotta love this stupid ass town."

  Eight

  Jameson

  My fist pounded the punching bag, each slam feeling better than the last. My knuckles were already numb and sweat poured off of me, making the leather bag slick like oil.

  "What did that punching bag ever do to you, Slate?" a voice that was familiar but I couldn't place drifted over my shoulder. I steadied the bag, grabbed the edge of the towel around my neck and blotted my face as I turned.

  "Sawyer? What the hell are you doing here?" I asked between breaths.

  "I left you a few messages," Sawyer walked over to the rack of weights and plucked up a five pounder. He did a few bicep curls.

  "Did you seriously come here to work out in your Polo shirt and Dockers?" I grabbed my water bottle off the bench and chugged it.

  Sawyer dropped the barbell on the rack with a clang. "Nope, I came here to talk business. Namely, movie business. I've got a great project, and I have two people in mind for the leading roles. You're one of them."

  I wiped my chest and stomach. "Is that right? We haven't worked together in years and now you have a part for me?"

  He sat on the bench. "We haven't worked together because you decided to spend those last eight years doing action and adventure movies. Those aren't my thing."

  "Shit, are you talking about some kind of romance flick? You know I stopped doing those."

  He leaned back and rested his elbows on the back of the bench. "I know. And why is that . . . exactly? Is it some kind of macho thing?"