by N J Adel
“Your loss. Tuna pasta okay?”
“Yes.” I let go of the laptop and grabbed my phone from the oversized coffee table before me. A text message popped up. I smiled as I took in the words. If you’ve nothing better to do, turn on channel 62. Going live in 15.
I rolled on my side and stretched my legs on the couch, then switched the TV on and flipped channels until I found the right one.
Commercials and kitchenware noise streamed as I waited for Mike’s appearance. The evening talk-show host finally announced Mike’s name. He waved to the squealing audience as he made his way to the open chair on the stage. His hair was tied back in a messy, man bun. The beige tweed jacket over the untucked, dark brown, button-down shirt and his pants brought out his eyes. They were the color of melting chocolate and made him look even more delectable than he already was.
Women yelled “I love you” as he took his seat, and he faked a shy smile in response.
The host rolled into asking standard questions about his latest movie. When he asked Mike to tell everyone what the movie was about, I could hear the lack of enthusiasm in his reply. I felt his boredom. Every one of these talk shows was identical. Only when the host mentioned Mike’s new production company did Mike’s voice teem with life.
Kyle returned with two plates of tuna pasta and resumed his place on the couch. His eyes flickered to the TV as he handed me the dish. “Since when do you like talk shows?”
I rested my feet on his thighs. “I don’t. I’m just watching Mike.”
He stabbed his fork in the tagliatelle. “For the record, this is not what I had in mind when I said I wanted to watch TV with you in PJs.”
I won’t be dragged into another “Mike has a thing for you” conversation. I took a mouthful of pasta, my eyes pinned to the flat screen.
“Look at all these silly girls screaming his name, dying to be his girlfriends.” He snorted. “Has he ever had a girlfriend, one he actually loved and didn’t cheat on?”
“He hasn’t had a girlfriend in almost eight years, so I don’t know.” I labored a smile. “Do you know he has a production company now? The debut project will be the contest winner’s script.”
He grunted, his expression annoyed. Was it because I’d changed the subject? Or was it because he’d failed to provoke me? He seemed to be doing nothing lately but picking fights with me.
The host asked Mike if he was dating anyone. “Oh, the million-dollar question,” Kyle taunted.
Mike chuckled to himself, and then he looked up at the camera, shaking his head. “No, I’m not seeing anyone. I wish I could, but I really don’t have any time.”
“But if you had the time, is there a certain lady in particular you wish to make your girlfriend?” the host asked with a cocky smirk on his lips.
Mike’s nervous twitches were evident. “Um…as a matter of fact, yes.” His lips pressed in a tight line. “There is one.”
The crowd broke out in hysterics.
“What the fuck?” I dropped my fork. Glaring at the TV, I set my plate on the table, sat up, and then bent my legs under me.
“Who’s the lucky lady?” the host pressed on.
“That I can’t answer. The lady doesn’t know yet, and she probably never will.” Mike rubbed his forehead, sweat shining on his face.
“And why is that? You don’t strike me as a shy person, Mr. Gennaro.” The host chuckled.
“It’s not about shyness. It’s about respect.” Mike frowned. “She has a boyfriend.”
My jaw dropped. “Oh my God! The bastard is in love!”
“Like he knows anything about respect or love,” Kyle mumbled.
I switched my glare toward him.
“Why do you even care?” he snapped.
Yes, Maggie, why do you even care? Why are there flames eating up your heart? Why do you feel like you’re gonna pass out? “You kidding me? I spill my heart out to that asshole, but he’s in love and never bothered to tell me. I can’t believe this.”
“How do you know he’s telling the truth? It’s clearly a publicity stunt.”
“Oh, publicity stunt my ass! You don’t think I know the difference? The fucker rubs his forehead when he’s nervous. He’s only nervous when he’s telling the truth.” My fingers scrolled fast through my cellphone.
“What’re you doing?”
“What do you think I’m doing? I’m calling him.”
“And say what?” He yanked the phone out of my hand. “You can’t blame him for hiding things when you’re doing the same thing.”
“Who cares?” Not you, I’m sure. “Give me my phone back.”
“Don’t you think he’d feel the same way when he finds out you made a movie without telling him?”
I squinted at him, thinking he might have a point, but I immediately dismissed the thought. “Making a movie is different from being in love.”
“Well, how about us moving in together? You haven’t told him about that either.”
My jaw twisted, and my shoulders slumped. “Fuck.”
“Yeah.”
My butt returned to the couch as I replayed the last thirty minutes in my head. Mike did text me before the show, asking me to watch. Perhaps that was his way to tell me. What a shitty way to tell anything to his best friend.
God only knew how long he’d been in love, how long he’d been hiding it from everyone, even me. The fire in my chest burned in my eyes now. I thought I’d distanced myself enough from Mike to get rid of his effect. I couldn’t have been more wrong. Although I hadn’t called him since our last dinner together, I never stopped missing him. Despite all my promises, I still wanted Mike.
Now more than ever.
My fingers itched to dial his number or, at least, text. I had to know who the superwoman who stole Mike Gennaro’s heart was. I eyed my phone in Kyle’s fist for long moments, tears almost slipping from my eyes. Quickly, I looked the other way and wiped my face.
No. What difference does it make? This is it. The end of the stupid dream.
If I still had any hope left, it died now that his heart belonged to someone else. Not only had he never been mine, now he never would be.
Evening my breath, I stared back at my boyfriend. “Kyle…”
“Yes,” he answered, his gaze distant.
“What’re we doing for Christmas?”
“I’m not sure. I thought you hated Christmas, so I didn’t plan anything.”
“I do. But this is our first one together. We should do something.”
He leaned forward, suddenly interested in the conversation. “Okay. What do you normally do?”
“Party till I drop.” Last year, when Tony blurted out he loved me at the Christmas party, I broke up with him and ran to Mike’s party. I slapped the memory off my head. “But let’s not do that. What do you normally do?”
“Since my parents passed, I spend it with my brother’s family in Denver. We have a nice dinner, the kids sing, and we play some games. But this year, they’re going to Spain.”
My head rested on his shoulder. “Too bad. I thought we could invite them over this year.”
“Thanks, sweetheart. That would have been nice.” His fingers combed through my hair. “What about you? You never see your parents on the holidays?”
“God, no. Not since I’ve gone to college. Everybody was psyched to go home for the holidays, but I stayed. They never understood why I wanted to spend Christmas in dreary England when I could be in sunny L.A. Apparently, they’ve never met Andrea.”
“You didn’t miss your father?”
“I did. But I didn’t miss Andrea more.” I laughed. “Besides, Dad always visited. Sometimes he had business there. Other times, he gave lectures at my school.” I looked at him. “You know? He called the other day, asking me to join them for the family’s Christmas dinner. He also said he’d love it if I brought you with me. Anyway, I told him no as usual, but…if you’re up for it… I mean, do you think you wanna do that?”
“Yeah. Of
course.” He grinned from ear to ear. “I’d love to meet him, too.”
“Okay.” I nodded. “That’s what we’re gonna do then.”
His whole face beamed with excitement. “You know what this means?”
“Yeah,” I squeaked, my brows high in my forehead. “We’re going official.”
Fuck.
Scene 25
Mike
Mike leaned his back against the headboard, staring at the blinking name on his phone, his heartbeat banging dangerously. He still couldn’t believe he finally did it. Confessed a secret he’d kept for so long and never intended to reveal.
He just couldn’t bear hiding it anymore. Not after Maggie had drifted away. Not after he’d found out about what Andrea did. What she’d been doing.
He took a calming breath, exhaled, and answered. “Hey, Carolina. You watched?”
A low male throat clearing answered. “It’s Kyle Burley. I’m sorry about this, but I need to talk to you.”
“Kyle?” He jumped out of bed. “Where’s Maggie? Is she all right?”
“She’s fine. She’s in the shower. No need to worry.”
Mike shut his eyes in relief. Then rage hit him. “Then why the fuck did you steal her phone and call me?”
“I’m sorry again, but it’s the only way I can make sure you’ll pick up.”
Mike slid back under the sheets. “What the fuck do you want, Burley?”
“I want you to leave Maggie alone.”
“Excuse me?” Mike scoffed.
“We watched the show, Maggie and I. Your message was loud and clear, to me at least.”
A lump clogged Mike’s throat. “What…what do you mean?”
“She was furious you didn’t tell her about the girl you love. She doesn’t know you couldn’t tell her because she is that girl.”
Mike bent his knees up and placed his forehead on them.
“If you really meant what you said about respect, stop pursuing her,” Kyle said. “She’s the only woman I want to spend the rest of my life with. I love her more than you ever will. I’ll make her happy more than you ever could. Please. Just leave us alone.”
The lump in Mike’s throat swelled. This wasn’t how he’d imagined this. He thought she’d watch and then call him. She’d be suspicious, at least, and he’d ask to meet her to explain. Instead, she didn’t even bother, and he got a call from her jealous boyfriend. There was no point in arguing with him. The message was for her, and she didn’t get it. She never would. “Kyle…you got this all wrong,” he lied, defeated. “I’m like a brother to her.”
“But she’s not like a sister to you.”
Mike pressed his jaws together, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Just…just make her happy. She deserves it.” He hung up and hurled the phone against the wall, where it shattered in pieces.
Scene 26
Mike
FIVE WEEKS LATER
“You made a movie?” Mike bellowed over the phone, speeding in his Porsche to downtown L.A.
Maggie sighed. “Morning to you, too.”
“Shitty morning! I can’t believe you right now. I’ve heard nothing from you in almost two months, and I find out this morning that you made a movie. That was your project?!” He made a turn on South Olive Street, Maggie’s apartment building showing two blocks on the right.
“Yes. I made a short film, so what? Wait…how did you know about that?”
“Not from you,” he yelled as he parked behind the building. He took the two paper-clipped scripts on the passenger seat and the garment bag hanging next to the backseat, and climbed out of the car.
“You couldn’t have just stumbled upon it? Who told you?”
He closed the Porsche door with his foot, held the phone between his ear and shoulder, and pressed the lock button on his car key. “You think I’ll just tell you?” He walked through the building back entrance, the garment bag over his shoulder, the scripts tucked under his arm.
“Come on, Mike.”
He got into the elevator. “Just open the fuckin’ door.”
“What?”
“You heard me.” The elevator dinged, and she gasped.
When the elevator doors opened, a James Bay song was streaming from her apartment and Maggie was standing in an oversized, baby blue shirt, her naked legs stretching down forever. Fuck. He wanted to drop his things, lift her in his arms, kick the door closed, and take her on the floor.
Angry face. He cleared his throat. Stick to your angry face.
He enjoyed the slight drop of her mouth and the flicker of surprise in her eyes. “My God, you’re here. You’re really here,” she whispered, her eyes darting right and left around the hallway.
He leaned on the doorframe, his gaze down on hers, their bodies no more than an inch apart. “Gonna let me in or what?”
“You don’t need an invitation.”
“Damn right I don’t.” He pushed his way inside, his arm accidentally brushing against her breasts. “Could you at least move?” He winced as he felt the jerk in his pants.
“Did someone see you come in?” She wrinkled her nose at him. “I have a reputation to keep.”
He scrunched his nose, too, as he noticed the clothes stand full of suits next to her closet. “You fear for your reputation? Or afraid someone will tell Lover Boy?”
She snickered in passing. “You want something to drink?”
“Nah.” His ass found a chair. He hung the garment bag on the back of it and set the paper stacks on his lap. She hopped and sat on the table next to him.
“Speak,” he demanded.
“You already know the answer to your question.”
“Are you for real right now? I understand if you don’t want Andrea’s help, but me? Why the hell not?”
“Because for once I wanted to do this on my own…so when I fuckin’ fail, and I have failed, no one dares blame me for it. It’s my time, my money, my dream; I’m not wasting anybody’s anything.”
“Do you really think I care if you’ve failed? I would’ve helped you again and again till you’ve made it.”
“You think I don’t know that? That’s exactly why I didn’t tell you.”
His hands balled into fists. “Don’t…” He huffed. “You’re stubborn as fuck.”
“So I’ve been told. You gonna tell me how you knew about my movie? I didn’t win anything. Not even an honorary mention. So someone must have told you.”
He just stared at her, his mouth curving in a tease.
“What the fuck? C’mon, Mike.”
“Don Robello told me,” he finally said.
She blinked. “Don Robello the producer?”
“No, the fuckin’ astronaut.”
She jumped off the table. He tried not to look when the shirt slid up to her hip. “You’re shitting me?” Her knees rested on the hardwood floor, her hands grabbing hold of his thigh.
A thousand dirty images of the things he could be doing to her and she could be doing to him in that position flashed in his head. He had to shake his head to push them away. “I had a meeting with him this morning. He heard about Mondo M, my production company, and wanted to invest in it. As we talked, he mentioned his latest indie project. Guess who he wants to direct it?”
She pointed at her chest in disbelief. He nodded, and she bounced like a nine-year-old. “No fuckin’ way.” A nine-year-old with a potty mouth.
Mike looked down to stop staring at her jiggling breasts and hardening nipples under the see-through shirt, but his gaze met her butt cheek on the way down. Oh dear God. The girl was no fan of underwear.
He shifted in his seat, adjusting the scripts, making sure they were covering his growing erection. “Yes fuckin’ way.”
As she finished her victory dance, the music stopped, and she peppered him with questions about Robello’s opinion of her work. He told her Robello thought it was savage and hardcore; exactly what he was looking for. When she bent forward and asked him if he’d seen it, he nodded, looking dow
n at the scripts. He couldn’t afford to glance a second longer at the view the unbuttoned top of her shirt offered.
She asked him something, but he was too distracted to hear it, his filthy mind at its peak, his cock aching. “Huh?”
“Mike, focus.”
“It’s impossible to focus when you’re dressed like that. Will you put something decent on?”
“What?” She jeered. “You’re acting like you’ve never seen a woman before.”
“Stop teasing and change, per favore.”
“Sorry. I didn’t know you’d lose focus over my tits.”
His dick stirred in his pants. “Jesus Christ!”
A smirk touched her lips as she jumped into a pair of blue jeans she found on the floor. She turned, taking off her shirt, heading for the closet, and he peered at her bare back, the curves around her hips mesmerizing. He yearned to let his fingers glide down them, to hold her from behind and let her feel beyond doubt what she was doing to him, to bend her down and…
A black hoodie covered her skin at last. “Better?”
“Yes,” he hissed.
She grabbed a chair and sat across from him. “So what do you think of the movie?”
“Honestly?”
“Yes, please.”
“I…love it.” And I fuckin’ love you.
A grin stretched across her face.
For the first time today he noticed the lack-of-sleep marks under her eyes. He was too occupied with her body to notice anything else. “You all right?”
“Of course. I’m more than all right. After this awesome news, who wouldn’t be?”
“No. I mean before. You look tired.”
“Just haven’t been in a good mood lately. When I didn’t win, I kinda…lost my groove.” Her gaze shifted for a second and then landed back on him. “Anyway, how’s filming?”
“Good. Normal.” His eyes flicked across her shoulder to a new installed door. “You have…a door?”
“Yeah.” She scratched behind her ear, rising to her feet. “I have a door. You sure you don’t want something to drink?”
“Why are you changing the subject? Does it have anything to do with Kyle moving in?”