Eyes Like Those

by Melissa Brayden

“Do you think we can get back to work?”

  “We can just as soon as you tell me where you were Saturday night. I’m just curious as to what had you so preoccupied.” It was a bargaining chip, which was often how Aspen worked: everything accounted for on a scorecard that always added up to a win for her and loss for whoever else had the misfortune of playing. In this case, there were hundreds of people held up from doing their jobs until Taylor played the silly game.

  “I hung out on Venice Beach with friends.”

  Aspen eyed her. “You don’t go to the beach. Especially all the way out in Venice.”

  “I did Saturday. What’s the big deal? Let’s just finish the read-through. That’s all I’m asking. If you’re still unhappy with the direction of the episode, we can set up a meeting.”

  Aspen played with a strand of her own hair and lowered her voice, purring the way she did when she was trying for sexy. “Did you wear a swimsuit? The white two-piece is my absolute favorite.” A year ago, it would have worked like a charm. Today, not so much. “Remember that time in the pool when it had to come off?”

  “Aspen.”

  “It was begging to.” They locked eyes and Aspen straightened, offering a sigh. “Fair enough. You don’t have to tell me the color.”

  “You’ll read?”

  She smiled warily. “I’ll read.”

  Ten minutes later they were back around the table. The episode read even better out loud than it had on the page. Isabel jotted notes, glancing up occasionally with a whisper of a smile on her lips. Taylor watched the faces of the team as they heard the episode for the first time. Folks were sitting up tall in their seats and turning pages eagerly. That was a positive sign. Whatever fear she still carried dissipated as she watched the journey play out on their faces. By the end of the read-through, the room clapped heartily.

  People shook their heads. She heard a few “wows,” a few “damns,” and even a murmured “that was hot.”

  “Man,” Luke said, and turned to Aspen. “This is news to me. Did you know they were putting us together?”

  Aspen smiled demurely, seemingly much happier with the script after the reaction it had just pulled. “I had a sneaking suspicion.”

  Lies.

  All great big lies.

  But if Aspen needed to seem in control, Taylor was more than happy to let her. She chatted briefly with the line producer and the director of the episode before glancing around the room for Isabel, who had mysteriously disappeared. She found her sitting at her desk surrounded by a virtual barricade of snack food. The rest of the writers were either not back from the read-through or they’d headed off to lunch, which would not have been uncommon.

  “What are you doing?” Taylor asked lightly.

  “Chili Cheese Fritos. Mainlining them. Desperate times. Have to,” she said, between bites. Her crisp blue eyes were wide as she crunched. Too wide. Beneath the desk, her foot bounced like a panicked little basketball.

  “You’re freaking out about the episode, aren’t you?”

  Isabel nodded about eight times. “No.”

  “It’s the first time you’ve had a script make it to air. It makes sense that you’d be on edge.”

  Isabel reached for an Oreo and bit into it heartily. “I’m fine. Not on edge. Just eating lots of junk food. Oreo?” She chomped another one.

  “Don’t mind if I do.” Taylor took an Oreo and slid the lid off with ease.

  “Oh, perfect. You even eat Oreos gracefully. I bet you’ve never been freaked out a day in your life. And why would you be? You’re fucking Taylor Andrews. I’m fucking Isabel from nowhere. And I’m swearing at my boss.”

  Taylor had to laugh. “First of all, you’re not Isabel from nowhere. You’re from Keene, and that’s definitely somewhere. And you should have seen me on my first job. It was that preteen kids’ show, Out of Touch. I threw up three times the week we shot my first script, which happened to deal, quite dramatically, with one of the characters getting the flu and missing his big basketball game.”

  Isabel smiled.

  “So, as you can imagine, it was too important to screw up. I didn’t sleep that week at all. I walked around a pale shade of green, trying desperately to look like I knew what I was doing.”

  Isabel slowly lowered a Twizzler en route to her mouth. “Did not.” Then a pause and a long stare. “You did? You?”

  “Yep. Let me show you something.” She took Isabel by the shoulders and led her to a mirror on the far wall. “What do you see?”

  “An amateur with Frito crumbs on her face.”

  Taylor closed her eyes and smiled at the candor. “Let me tell you what I see. A very capable, very sharp, very intelligent writer who has blown everyone away in the two months she’s been on staff.”

  Isabel scoffed. “Strong language.”

  Pessimism was her go-to, Taylor was finding. “Well, I didn’t say ‘fucking,’ but it does the trick.” That earned her a smile through the mirror. She gave Isabel’s shoulders a squeeze and was surprised when Isabel turned in her arms and hugged her. She blinked several times at her body’s response to the unexpected contact, as little pinpricks of pleasure moved through her. She returned the embrace, and for just a second or two, allowed herself the luxury of getting lost in it without question, doubt, or overanalysis. The warmth from Isabel’s body comforted her, the round swells of her breasts excited her, and the solidity of her arms grounded her. So many things all at once. And then, just like that, it was over.

  Who was this girl?

  This was the second time she’d slayed Taylor with just an embrace. She imagined the effect of more and nearly had to sit down. How did Isabel come with this kind of power?

  “Thank you,” Isabel said, and smiled. “For what you said. I needed that boost.”

  Taylor nodded, now feeling like the off-kilter one. “I better head back to Sister Dale. Make sure Lyric hasn’t burned the place down. Entirely possible.”

  “Taylor?” The room was quiet except for the slightest buzz from the fluorescents overhead. Isabel’s voice echoed delicately.

  She turned back. “Yep?”

  “Will I see you soon?” God, the vulnerability in Isabel’s voice hit her right in the stomach.

  “Do you want to?”

  Isabel nodded, her eyes uncharacteristically soft. Her guard was down.

  “Then you will.”

  *****

  Three days later, Isabel sat in a director’s chair off to the side of set, watching as Greg Beckett directed her episode. As in, the actual episode she wrote, the one that would appear on network television. Not the made-up-land in her head where things like this usually happened. Trippy was an understatement.

  “All right, and we’re going again,” he called to the set after a brief conference with the actors. In this case, Aspen and Luke, who took their beginning positions on the set of the cabin.

  And they were off!

  Isabel sat forward, taking in the fact that the characters she’d known for years were now speaking her words. She stayed out of the way as Taylor had instructed but was on hand to consult and advocate for her script as needed. It was hard not to jump in each step of the way and offer her opinion; she had so many. But it wasn’t her place, and she gave Greg room to work. Luckily, they seemed to be on the same page creatively, and Greg’s vision only enhanced her dialogue.

  “Cut,” Greg yelled, after a particularly saucy take, where Lisette and Thomas were practically breathing the same air, yet not actually touching. She had to hand it to Aspen—the woman was on fire and bringing the scene to life with more quiet passion than even Isabel had first imagined. And then there was the fact that Aspen was stunning—wide-eyed, with gorgeous thick dark hair and a sexy voice, and that didn’t even touch the way she moved—full of grace and confidence, all the things Isabel lacked. But Aspen’s past with Taylor was never far from Isabel’s mind. In fact, given the incessant text messaging the other night, a small part of her couldn’t help but wonder i
f maybe it wasn’t as over as Taylor seemed to think.

  Once they called a five, Isabel made a grab for a bottle of water, finding herself standing alongside Aspen at the craft services table. She wore a silk white robe, her wardrobe for the scene, and began making herself what looked to be a lettuce sandwich.

  “You should be quite proud of yourself,” Aspen said, eying her.

  Isabel glanced behind her. “Oh, sorry. Me?”

  “You.” Aspen relaxed into a dazzling grin. “For the episode. I will admit to being a skeptic at first. You saw my reaction at the table read. How awful of me! But honestly, Isabel, it’s pulling in some big reactions.” She glanced around at the various members of the crew.

  “I hope so. Just trying to tell a good story.” She looked up tentatively at Aspen, who was a good four inches taller than she was, and, wow, this woman was pretty, even more so when she flashed that catlike smile.

  “You’re talented. You should know that,” Aspen said. And then there was that charm. Even with all she knew about Aspen from Taylor, she still felt somehow honored that Aspen was paying attention to her. What the hell was that about? When Aspen focused on her, it felt like bathing in a warm light. An impressive skill.

  “Thank you,” Isabel said, feeling the blush arrive, right on cue. “That’s really nice of you to say.”

  Aspen reached across Isabel for a spoon to stir her tea. “So, what’s your story, Ms. Chase?”

  Oh, okay. She hadn’t expected more questions, but that was all right. “My story? Oh. Well, um, I don’t really have a good one. From the northeast. New Hampshire, specifically. A recent transfer. I came to LA for the job.”

  “How long have you been writing?”

  “For as long as I can remember. Shorts, features, spec scripts for television, anything really. Been trying to get my foot in the door for quite a while now.”

  “So this is your very first show?” Aspen asked as if it were the most adorable thing in the world.

  Isabel nodded, unsure if admitting that was to her benefit. Aspen was a hard one to predict, she was finding.

  “That is so exciting,” Aspen enthused. “How did we get so lucky?”

  “Good timing. That’s all. I think I might be the lucky one. Taylor was nice enough to give me a shot.”

  “She’s our rock, Taylor,” Aspen said reverently. “We’re all so thrilled to be working for a brilliant visionary like her. I know I am. And you’re all settled?”

  “Yep, subletting a place in Venice Beach and learning the crazy tricks to maneuver LA traffic.”

  Aspen stopped stirring her tea and instead stared at Isabel as if she’d said the most remarkable thing. “Venice Beach, did you say?”

  “Right. Yeah, a small apartment complex not far from the water. I’m subletting from another writer.”

  “How exciting!” she exclaimed, once again breaking into animation. “And do you make it to the beach much?” She could apparently get all glowy and radiant in the span of five seconds.

  “Yeah, in fact, a few of us hung out there this weekend. It’s a really cool place. Lots to do.”

  “My goodness, that sounds like a blast. Taylor mentioned how much fun she had.”

  “Did she?” Isabel asked, happy to hear it. She was surprised to learn that Taylor had gotten around to returning those messages from Aspen, but then she didn’t have their relationship all that figured out. “I’m glad. I had fun, too.”

  “If you’ll excuse me, I think we’re about to go again.” She moved past Isabel to the set, where she stepped into Luke’s space, ready to pick up from the spot they’d left off. As Isabel watched them shoot the scene, she couldn’t quite shake the odd exchange with Aspen. It did, however, serve as a reminder that Aspen was a force.

  One she didn’t want to go up against if she could help it.

  Note to self.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “You’re sleeping with the staff writer?” Aspen practically bellowed.

  “Excuse me?” Taylor looked up warily from her desk to find Aspen leaning against the doorjamb of her office, her expression dialed to hurt and betrayal. It was close to midnight, and Taylor thought she’d steal a few quiet hours now that everyone had gone home. Apparently, shooting had run late. At the sound of Aspen’s voice, Raisin leapt into her lap and pressed his cheek against her arm. He’d never been a huge fan of Aspen’s, and, honestly, he’d had the right idea all along.

  After twelve hours on the Sister Dale set, she’d snuck back to her office to figure out a way to afford rain for an upcoming Water episode in which Lyle’s script depended on it. And now this? She needed a complaint card directed at the Fates, because she had some serious concerns about fairness.

  Aspen pushed herself into an upright position and walked slowly into the office, returning to a semblance of calm. “You two have a thing going on. There’s no reason you should hide that from me. I can be supportive if this is what you truly want. God knows why. It’s not who I would have picked out for you, because let’s be honest, we both know you can do better.” Ice cascaded from that sentence.

  “Isabel and I write for the same show. And yes, we’ve become friends.”

  Aspen nodded and trailed a finger along Taylor’s desk. “Who spend time together on the beach.”

  “How do you even—? You know what?” She paused and waved her hand. Someone had been doing some detective work. “Doesn’t matter. Yes, we hung out on the beach this weekend.”

  “That’s very cute. She is, too. Her episode’s coming along nicely, thanks to Luke and me.”

  She ignored that last part. The feedback from set had all been quite positive, and Taylor was proud of Isabel and the risk they’d decided to take with the storyline. “Yeah, well, let’s hope the rest of the world thinks so.”

  “They will after they see my scenes.” She smiled triumphantly. “But that’s not why I’m here.”

  “It’s not?”

  “Your party next week.”

  “That’s next week?” God, where had the time gone. While Taylor loved to entertain, was known for it in fact, she preferred to do it with finesse and flourish and would be pushed to make that happen now. She immediately scribbled a note to get the lights on the pool replaced and finalize that catering order.

  “Don’t worry. I’ll be there to help you.” Before she could protest, Aspen pressed on. “Patrick McMartin is coming. I know because I saw him at Nobu last night, and we hit it off.”

  “That’s great, Aspen,” she said distractedly. Too much to do. No time for small talk with Aspen.

  “I want him to consider me for the Sally Ride biopic.” She took a seat across from Taylor. “Don’t you think I’d be fabulous?”

  “As the astronaut?” Taylor asked. Aspen was all wrong for that. Soft and sultry was more her wheelhouse. “I’m not sure it’s a fit.”

  “Which is perfect. I need to branch out, and you know him well. You could surely, you know, put in a good word for little ol’ me.” She batted her eyelashes.

  Taylor hadn’t known that was an actual real-life thing people did until Aspen. “I will do what I can with Patrick.” It was a half-hearted promise, but the best she could offer. The sound of the door snagged Aspen’s attention. Taylor was thrilled for the out.

  “Oh, hey. Didn’t know anyone was still here,” Isabel said, waving from the hallway outside Taylor’s door. “Just gonna grab my stuff and head out.” Right on cue, Raisin jumped from Taylor’s arms and ran into the hallway to greet Isabel.

  “Hi, Hotdog,” she said, looking down from a standing position, hands on her hips. It was clear that things had gone well on set, and Isabel was on a high. A good sign. “You’re trying to lick my face but you’re all the way down there. Too short to make it.”

  Taylor smiled at Raisin’s attempt to close the distance with a series of ineffective leaps.

  “I guess I could come down to you. That might be one way to solve it, or whatever.” He whined softly as Isabel lower
ed herself to the carpet on all fours, prompting Raisin to bathe her face in kisses. Isabel leapt into doggy voice. “Who’s a goofy hot dog? Who is? You’re the goofiest one ever.” Once the lovefest recessed, she pushed herself off the floor and grinned.

  “Someone missed you,” Taylor said.

  “Raisin’s a nice guy is all.”

  Aspen grimaced at Isabel. “Here,” she said, grabbing a tissue from Taylor’s desk. “You might want to take care of your face.”

  Taylor watched as Isabel’s grin slid away. She accepted the tissue and her cheeks reddened. She glanced from Taylor to Aspen and quickly dabbed at her face. “My bad. Guess we got carried away.”

  “There’s nothing better than doggy kisses,” Taylor said by way of support.

  Aspen passed her a heated stare. “I can think of a few things.”

  “Right, well,” Isabel said, noticeably bothered by the exchange. “I think I’m in the way here. Better head out. You were great today,” she said to Aspen.

  “Just doing my job for this one.” Aspen hooked a thumb at Taylor. “Walk me to my car, T-Bear?” she asked Taylor.

  Isabel quietly retreated and Taylor stared after her. “Can’t. Not ready to leave yet. And please don’t call me that.”

  “Force of habit. Is that a no?”

  Taylor stared at her in confusion. “I thought you were using a car service?”

  “Oh, that’s right.”

  Convenient slip, Taylor thought.

  “Don’t forget about the party and Patrick. Night night.” And she was gone.

  Five minutes later Taylor heard footsteps in the hall. “Iz?”

  “Yeah. What’s up?” Isabel asked, appearing in her doorway. The blush was gone. So was the embarrassment. She was fresh-faced and very much herself again, and for whatever reason, it made the stress of Taylor’s day fall away. “You’ve never called me Iz before,” she said with a small smile.

  Taylor thought on it. “I suppose I haven’t. Just came out of my mouth.”

  “I like it.”

  “Me too. You leaving?”

  Isabel nodded.