by L.H. Cosway
We were still staring at one another, imprisoned in a moment, when a sound came from outside. The door knob turned, and someone began to enter the dressing room. We both froze, still entwined together.
“Damon? Are you in here? I wanted to talk to you about earlier — ” Alicia’s words came to an abrupt halt as soon as she saw us. No part of me was exposed really, well, except for my bra. But Damon’s hand was still down my pants, so it was fairly obvious what we’d just been doing.
My pulse sped up, but I couldn’t move, too mortified that Alicia had walked in on us mid…whatever that just was. Her mouth firmed, her eyes going steely and hard as she looked at Damon.
“I’m sorry. I’ll come back later.”
She closed the door with a loud, obviously pissed-off thud, and Damon let his chin fall to the top of my head. “Jesus.”
“We should’ve locked the door.”
“No, she should’ve knocked,” he disagreed, sounding aggravated. I knew it wasn’t directed at me, but my stomach still tensed at his tone of voice. A moment of quiet passed as Damon removed his hand from my underwear and wrapped his arms around me, holding me in an embrace.
“What do you think she wanted?” I asked softly.
He exhaled a long, weary breath before placing a kiss to my crown and moving away. I glanced at his crotch to find him still hard, but I wasn’t brave enough to say anything about it. He went and took a seat by the dressing table, twisting around to face me. Self-conscious, I began doing up the buttons of my blouse. His eyes followed the movement.
“When Jacob asked us into his office, it was to inform us of the huge boost in ticket sales after last night’s television appearance. He wants us to do more.”
“Oh,” I breathed, suddenly understanding. Julian had been right. “So that’s why you looked so angry — you don’t want to do any more publicity?”
Damon shook his head, both hands clenched into fists. “It’s not only that. He wants us to….” He trailed off, jaw tight. “I can’t believe he had the gall to suggest this, but he wants us to fabricate a relationship for the press. He wants us to pretend to be an item to sell more tickets.”
My heart stilled, my mouth dropping open in disbelief. “What? He can’t make you do that.”
Damon scoffed. “He’s not making me do anything. I told him to fuck off.”
I gasped. “You told Jacob Anthony to fuck off? Oh, my God, Damon….” I paused for a second. “That’s kind of badass.”
He cocked one dark eyebrow at me, and I had to admit, it really was quite sexy. “The ticket sales haven’t been living up to expectations. I told him I was already seeing someone, and then the bastard said I could continue having you hang about my house in your pyjamas as much as I wanted, so long as the press didn’t catch wind. I don’t care how good a director he is — the man is a fucking arsehole. I told him I’d quit if he kept pushing.”
My hand went to my chest and rubbed, a touch of embarrassment hitting me at the “pyjamas” bit. I’d thought Jacob was so wrapped up in his own little world that he hadn’t noticed my attire. Clearly, he had noticed; he just hadn’t really cared.
Damon stood from his seat, coming toward me again and clasping either side of my neck. His thumbs rubbed into my tense muscles, perhaps in an effort to help me relax. “I won’t let anyone interfere in what’s between us, Rose. I promise.”
“If you keep saying no, he’ll try to have Iggy fire me just out of spite,” I whispered. “I know men like Jacob. They hold a grudge.”
Damon’s eyes hardened. “If he fires you, then I really will quit. You’re more important to me than this production.”
Something in my heart literally snapped at that, and I felt emotion tugging at me. I didn’t know whether I wanted to laugh or cry. Damon was so loyal and perfect and wonderful, and I didn’t feel like I deserved him. I certainly didn’t want him quitting his first acting role in almost a decade just for me.
“Hey,” he said. “Get out of your head and stop worrying. Let me handle this. He’s not going to win.”
I stared at him, biting my lip again out of nervousness. I really needed to stop doing that. “Okay,” I said finally, my voice tiny.
Damon’s eyes flickered between mine, like he was trying to find any morsels of doubt so he could squash them. “Okay,” he echoed, and then pressed one final kiss to my lips. His hand moved from my neck and he slid his fingers between mine, clasping my hand tight as a symbol of our solidarity.
***
Alicia was absent for the rest of the day. She was supposed to be there for dress rehearsals, but apparently she’d fallen ill and had to go home. I didn’t think much of it, but suspected her illness was more sour grapes and anger after walking in on me and Damon in flagrante, or, well, halfway in flagrante, as it were.
I got to go home after lunch because the cast were working on dialogue. Stopping by the nearest supermarket, I picked up a few things for dinner before heading home. Everything seemed normal when I entered the apartment, and I went about putting away my groceries until I heard a distinctly sexual noise coming from the direction of Julian’s bedroom – a feminine moan, to be exact.
It was afterwards that I noticed a pair of high heels strewn haphazardly across the living room floor, and there was a coat and handbag on the couch. Frowning, I knew Julian wasn’t with a client, because he never brought them here. He only ever met up with them at hotels or their own houses. He liked to keep our home a home in that sense, but it was also for security purposes. Oftentimes, he might have a client become a little too attached, and if they didn’t know where he lived, it ensured that they couldn’t start stalking him. He also used a different name, and a special phone separate from his personal one to make himself even more untraceable.
So yeah, this wasn’t a client. I actually found myself smiling after a minute, because it’d been a while since my friend had brought a woman home for sex, sex he wasn’t being paid for. This could potentially be a good sign.
I went about my business, but put on my headphones to listen to some music and allow Julian and whoever he was with their privacy. About forty-five minutes went by, and I was just finished preparing a lasagne for dinner when his bedroom door opened. Soft footsteps sounded down the hall and I tried to play it cool, when really I was dying to check out Julian’s new lady friend.
Any happy thoughts I’d been having immediately fled when I turned, spoon in hand, and came face to face with a very rumpled and very much freshly fucked Alicia Davidson.
Oh, Julian.
Bad choice.
Her gaze hardened, but she straightened up as though mentally putting on her armour. Yep, I was fairly sure this was a woman who wasn’t going to let anyone shame her about her behaviour, least of all me.
“We really need to stop meeting like this,” I said, my voice neutral.
Alicia gave me a contemptuous eye roll before walking into the living area and picking up her shoes. “You can save the holier-than-thou speech, Rose. I’m well aware that you’re the perfect, sweet little flower and I’m the harlot out to seduce your handsome prince.”
“That’s not what I think of you,” I said, putting down the spoon and bracing both hands on the counter as I watched her. “In fact, I don’t blame you for wanting Damon. In all honesty, it’s still hard for me to accept that he even knows my name, never mind enjoys my company.”
She very slowly raised her eyebrows as she slipped on one dark blue heel and then the other. “Is that what they’re calling it these days? It looked like he was more than enjoying your company today in his dressing room.”
Ouch, that burned, no matter how much I wished it hadn’t.
“Alicia, I never meant for you to walk in on that, but you have to know I’m not playing a game. I like Damon — I more than like him. And I’m pretty sure he more than likes me. We’re just…seeing where things go between us.” I shrugged and met her gaze evenly.
Some of the fight went out of her then, and
she slumped down onto the couch. “I know that. I suppose I’ve known it from the start. The way he looks at you — that’s special. He’s just a really good guy, you know? He’s an old-fashioned gentleman, the kind of man who’ll treat you with respect and care for you until you’re old and grey. I don’t meet a lot of men like that in my profession. It was silly to think he’d be interested in someone like me.” She paused to let out a joyless laugh. “My halo lost its shine a long, long time ago.”
I was honestly shocked by her confession and moved away from the counter, going to take a seat across from her in the living area.
“That’s not true. Good men would be lining up the block for a chance to go out with you. It’s just this business — everybody’s only out for quick, shallow connections. I’ve been burned a few times myself. You need to look outside the pool of men who work in the industry.”
She glanced at me then, considering me for a long moment. “Maybe you’re right.”
“You’re beautiful, Alicia. You can have anyone you want.”
Now one eyebrow rose, and she sighed sadly. “Obviously not anyone. Not Damon.”
For a second I didn’t know what to say. On the one hand, I wanted to tell her she probably could have him if he hadn’t met me first, but on the other it felt wrong deep in my bones to even think it. There was something in me that truly believed it was fate that Damon and I had met, and the idea of him ever going with anyone else, even in an alternate reality, made me recoil.
“If you admire Damon so much, then why are you here with Julian?” I asked, my eyes going in the direction of his bedroom to make sure the door was still shut. I wouldn’t put it past my friend to eavesdrop on this little conversation. Still, I had to ask the question. Although I may have felt some sympathy for Alicia and her inability to find a good man, I was still pissed at the idea of her using my friend.
She let out a humourless laugh. “Because I was lonely and he was available.”
Now I frowned hard, because Julian didn’t deserve to be treated like an object. Perhaps outwardly it wasn’t so obvious to see that he was a good person, but if she knew him like I did, she’d know he was more than good. Seriously, sometimes before I went to bed at night I’d think about his childhood and just silently cry for the little boy he used to be.
“Oh, don’t look at me like that, Rose,” Alicia chided. “Julian’s using me just the same as I’m using him. It’s a win-win situation. No real emotions are involved so nobody gets hurt.”
I grew stiff. “If you knew the real him you wouldn’t say that.”
Now she huffed. “That’s where you’re wrong. I know the real him all too well. The fact of the matter is that when I look at Julian, all I see is my own image reflected back, hard and world-weary and cold. I don’t want another version of me. I want someone kind, someone selfless, someone who no matter how difficult I can be at times, will still love me anyway.”
I stared at her, letting her words seep in. If that was how she thought of Julian, then she really didn’t fucking deserve him. I could’ve slapped my friend for selling himself so short. He always did that and it broke my heart. I wanted him to find someone who could see his goodness like I could. And Alicia certainly wasn’t that person; she was too wrapped up in her own wants and needs.
She rose then, picking up her handbag and coat. Her posture straightened, and then she took a few steps toward the door. I watched her go, but she paused for a second before turning back around. Her sharp, cat-like green eyes perused me.
“You might not believe this, but I like you, Rose, and I think if things were different we could have been friends. But know this — if I ever get my chance with Damon Atwood, I’m taking it, and I’ll never apologise for going after the thing that I want.”
With that she left, and I frowned at her retreating figure. Her words made me worry, because I knew that if anything were to cause me and Damon to drift apart, even for a moment, she’d swoop right in and steal him out from underneath my feet. But then I also knew that though he might be fooled by her, Damon would never love Alicia. Her words were far too revealing.
I’ll never apologise for going after the thing that I want.
This was the difference between us. She saw him as a thing, another prized possession to have under her belt, something to make her feel good. I didn’t see Damon as a thing — I saw him as a soul, a person, a being so vital he made the world a better place just by existing within it.
And I cared about his happiness, about how I made him feel, not just about how he made me feel in return.
Twenty.
*Damon*
I wanted to smile, watching Rose sit on a step. She was tying the laces on her shoes as we got ready to practice a routine. It was an odd sensation, because normally I was far too withdrawn within myself to want to do something as ordinary as smile at a woman I found beautiful.
So far I’d taken her out on two dates. One was dinner and a show at the London Palladium, and the other was a day out biking around the city. She knew every inch of the place, so I let her be my tour guide.
We were taking things slow, like we’d both agreed. We were still trying to remain friends and let things naturally progress to something more. I thought it was best, because we both had issues when it came to relationships, though I hadn’t broached the subject of mine to her yet. There was this small part of me that thought she might be horrified, that the truth might scare her away.
Even so, I couldn’t stop thinking about the time we spent in my dressing room. Making her come had been like a religious experience. I swore I could hear Beethoven playing in my ears when she fell apart on my hand. Time had moved in slow motion as I fixated on the tremors shuddering through her body and the way her breaths came out all choppy and uneven.
Jacob tried broaching the topic of me and Alicia faking a relationship a handful of times. On the third and final try, I lost my temper, telling him that if he didn’t stop, I’d walk right out the door. An hour later he came to my dressing room and apologised, worried I really would up and quit.
Now we were halfway through the third week of dress rehearsals. One more week and we’d be opening the show to audiences. I was nervous about that, but also because I had a question I’d been wanting to ask Rose, a burning one that had been on the tip of my tongue for days now. Unfortunately, I hadn’t yet built up the courage to get it out.
Alicia, who seemed angry after walking in on me and Rose together, had quickly forgotten the whole episode ever occurred. In fact, she was being even more friendly towards me than usual. I knew it made Rose edgy, the same way I felt edgy whenever Blake was within touching distance of her, but I could hardly avoid interacting with Alicia. We had to act together. It was unavoidable.
She came into the stage area wearing a glittery dress that looked like it was made entirely from silver beads, though admittedly I knew next to nothing about women’s fashion. I did love how Rose dressed. It was understated but very feminine.
“Jacob,” Alicia called to our director who was standing having a discussion with Iggy. “Is Farrah around? This dress is too long. I need her to take it up a little.”
It didn’t look too long to me. In fact, it looked a little short. But again, I knew nothing of fashion. Jacob pursed his lips, arched an eyebrow, and responded, “In my opinion, it shows quite enough leg already, Alicia dear.”
She pouted. “It’s not about showing leg, it’s about being able to move efficiently. Every time I twist my hips, the stupid thing catches mid-thigh.”
They continued to argue about whether or not the dress should be altered, and I knew it was going to take a while for them to come to an agreement, so I went to sit by Rose.
“If Farrah makes that dress any shorter, Alicia’s going to be flashing her knickers at the front row,” she said under her breath.
Letting out a quiet chuckle, I allowed my arm to brush against hers, and she inhaled sharply as colour warmed her cheeks. I found myself doing that a
lot lately, finding new ways to touch her that weren’t explicitly sexual. I particularly liked it when she inhaled like that, or when her skin pimpled into gooseflesh, because it was a sign she enjoyed my touch just as much as I enjoyed touching her.
“I just hope they don’t spend all day arguing about it,” I said, lips twitching.
“When Gene Kelly made Singin’ in the Rain, there used to be all these rules and regulations about how much skin you could show on screen,” Rose told me, going into another of her Gene Kelly anecdotes. I was particularly amused by the one about him purportedly donating money to the IRA in their struggle for Irish Independence. It was certainly a gutsy way to get in touch with your heritage. Over the last week or two, I’d quickly come to realise she was something of an encyclopaedia on the renowned actor, and could spout off fact after fact. It was very endearing.
“Anyway,” she went on. “So there’s this one scene in the film, actually it’s sort of a dream sequence, and Gene’s character performs this totally epic choreography with Cyd Charisse. She was a really famous dancer and actress of the time, which is phenomenal in itself, considering she suffered from polio as a little girl.”
“Is that the scene with the woman in the white dress?” I asked, and her eyes lit up that I remembered it.
“Yes! She wore this short white dress with a long flowy scarf that they incorporated into the dance with a wind machine, which also made the dress blow up around her thighs. And you see, Gene really wanted to showcase Cyd’s legs, because she had amazing pins, but the film censor would only allow a certain amount of thigh to be shown.” She paused to let out an amused laugh. “Every time the censor came on set, Gene would quickly cover up Cyd’s legs, and then every time he left he’d hike her skirt higher again for the cameras. If you go back and watch it, you’ll notice how risqué it was for its time. You can even see a hint of arse cheek.”
This last bit made me laugh, and I was aware of how much freer I was with my laughs around Rose. I was even relaxed enough to smile without feeling vulnerable. I trusted her implicitly.