"So what did happen?"
"Well, let's start with the meeting itself. I was already tense when I got there before I knew what happened with you. My agent said he had gotten a weird vibe when he called one of the studio people earlier in the day. So I was on edge already. It turns out he was right. They had no intention of making the deal."
My eyes widened. "What do you mean? How do you know that?"
"They like the script, and they were interested in that. That's why they took the meeting. They said it was out of 'respect' for me that we all met in person," he said, making air quotes around "respect."
"I don't get it. If they like the script-"
"They only wanted the script, Em. Not me. They wanted to buy the rights off me. But they don't want me involved. Forget starring in it. Not even just as a producer."
"Why? Why not?"
He looked at me sadly. "They said I'm- that my marketability is lost. That the drama with Maya and 'Kill Switch' has taken over, it's all anyone would think about, and people, fans, aren't interested in me now as an actor."
"But, wasn't it them who made you do this in the first place?"
"Well, no, not these exact people. But they know the deal. I think they think 'Kill Switch' was my fault. That it sucks because of me."
"No! Did they say that?"
"No, but- well, it was obvious."
"Are you sure? I mean, how can you be-"
He laughed, again without any humor. His eyes glinted again.
"They said I'm toxic. That's the fucking word they used. Toxic. Box office poison."
"No," I shook my head violently. "No. They're dead wrong. That's crazy. Someone else will make this movie. I know it. Quinn-"
He took my hand.
"It's OK. Really, I know. My career isn't over. I know that. It was a blow, because I stupidly had gotten my hopes up, no matter what I said before. I did. I pictured it all going great, the studio people handing me the whole fucking thing on a silver platter. Stupid. I know better. So now I just have to figure out what to do next, who to bring the script to, or maybe just set up some meetings and get myself out there. Really, it's fine. That part is fine."
"That part? Did something else happen?"
He let go of my hand and took a gulp of wine.
"Yeah. I fired Julianne."
Now I needed some wine. Stat.
"Quinn. Jesus. What happened?"
He shook his head, clearly still in a state of disbelief. "She happened. This is the exact reason I don't trust people." He took a deep breath. "Look, when she told me weeks ago that she had feelings for me, that day you saw us and thought we were, you know."
I nodded.
"I could have been nicer about it, I guess. I basically told her to get over it. I mean, not that bad, but I just told her it could never be. I didn't tell her about you. I mean, she knew sort of, which was why she talked to you, tried to scare you off. But I didn't tell her how I really felt about you."
"So what did you tell her?"
"I told her that we work together, that I needed her for that. I didn't- ugh, shit. I didn't want to reject her. I mean, I wanted to reject her, but-"
I nodded. "I get it."
He gave me a faint smile. "I told her I just couldn't go there with her. And I thought that was it, that she understood. She said she did."
"But she didn't."
"No."
"I'm not surprised."
A flash of anger crossed his face. "How can you say that? Was it so obvious, and I just didn't get it?"
"Quinn," I murmured, touching his arm lightly. "In a weird way, it's like what she was warning me about with you. You gave her your attention, you were the way you are, a nice guy, but also sexy and magnetic as hell, and she got the wrong impression. She saw what she wanted to see."
He rolled his eyes. "I'm going to have to take your word for it. To me, things were just the way they always were with her and me."
"Yes, intimate."
"No! I told you, Em, we never-"
"I don't mean intimate like that. But intimate, you two were close. Look, from a distance I mistook it for something more. It's no wonder that she did, too, because it was what she wanted."
He was silent for a minute.
"So what happened?" I pressed.
"After I finally did tell her about you, things changed. She was the one who suggested that we call Lauren and Dennis, and looking back on it, I see now that she was trying to either get you in trouble or sabotage us. She didn't count on them not really caring and on you handling it so well. So then, the meeting. The time changed the day before. I got the call when I was already down in LA, at my agent's office. She was there, too. She told me not to worry about it, that she would let you know."
My stomach dropped. "And then she didn't."
"Right."
"What about Elaine coming in right at the end, did she arrange that, too?"
"No, that was just a lucky coincidence."
I sat back, took another big sip of wine and tried to process it all. "I don't get it. She sabotaged your meeting because she's in love with you? It doesn't make sense."
"She isn't in love with me," Quinn replied, disgusted. "That isn't love. That's trying to win the game. And I need her now more than ever. She was always so good at strategizing—ha!—I could really use her savvy to figure out my next move. She would have been great for that. And encouraging. She always stayed so cool and said the right thing."
"One thing I don't get though."
"What's that?" he asked, finishing his wine, putting his glass down and turning to face me, one leg bent across the couch cushion. He tucked my hair behind my ear.
"How did it come out? How did you find out that it was her and not me?"
"You're not going to like it," he warned.
I chuckled. "I don't like any of it. How could it get any worse?"
"After I was in Santa Barbara for a day or two, she called and asked if she could come up, so we could talk about next steps. I said OK. We went for a drive, without any real destination, and she said, 'Let's go get a drink. I know we aren't celebrating, but let's just talk. We'll figure out what to do next. It'll be good.' So we went to a bar, some little dive. We were sitting in the back, having a drink, and instead of talking about work, she brings you up. Asks me how it's going, aside from your screw-up that day.”
He sighed heavily again. “I already felt really bad about how I had treated you, and I didn’t know how to handle it, what to do next,” he continued. "I wasn’t going to go into it with her, but then I started talking about you, about us. You know, I haven't really talked to anyone about us, except my sister. Jordie knows, but he's not exactly one to sit down for a heart-to-heart. I wanted to talk about it. So I told her that I feel safe with you, I trust you in a way I never have with anyone since I got here. I told her that you really, you know, get me. How smart you are, sweet and just… thoughtful. And that you don't care about all the Hollywood bullshit.
"I wasn't looking at her, so I didn't see how what I was saying affected her, I was too wrapped up in my own… whatever. When I finally realized she wasn't responding, I looked up and found her crying."
"Oh, no. Yikes. Then what?"
He paused. "She freaked, Em. Really just fucking lost it."
"What do you mean?"
He shook his head, as if he still couldn't believe it. "She told me she thought it was all an act, that you're a gold-digging bitch, you're using me, she sees right through you and how could I fall for it."
"Wow," I replied, incredulous. Shaking my head, I swallowed the rest of my wine in one gulp. "Holy shit."
He smiled ruefully. "I know.
"And then I just knew. I knew it was her. She never told you about the meeting, like she said she would. She saw an opportunity to get you, in a way I was definitely going to notice. So I asked her, flat out, and she admitted it."
After I gave Quinn a brief run-down on Mr. Matthews' funeral, and told him about th
e uncertainty with Elaine at work, I yawned. We both stood up.
"I'm wiped," he said. "You must be, too."
"Yeah. Should we get ready for bed? I need to go in tomorrow, I still have no idea what the deal is with Elaine."
"Do you, um. Should I stay?" he asked.
"Are you kidding?"
"No, Em. I came here, I had to see you, but I didn't expect- I mean, I didn't know if-"
I wrapped my arms around his waist and tilted my head back, reaching up on my tiptoes so he would kiss me.
"Shut up," I whispered after breaking away from his gentle, tentative kiss. "I missed you. We have some stuff to deal with, you and me. But right now I just want you in my bed."
He smiled faintly at me, so many mixed emotions in his face. "I missed you, too, Em."
Soft kisses on the back of my neck and shoulder roused me from a deep sleep. Exhausted from the events of the last week, I had crashed hard after Quinn and I laid in bed and kissed for a while.
"Hey," I murmured sleepily, noticing that it was still dark outside my window. "Are you OK?"
Quinn didn't answer, but sighed, moving his hands from around my waist down to the front of my thighs, rubbing his hips against my back and ass. Opening his mouth against my neck, he let his tongue just graze my skin. I shuddered.
Reaching behind me, I stroked the back of his leg and his backside, rubbing myself against him. He moved his hands up to my breasts, cupping them, teasing my nipples with his fingers.
He was silent except for heavy breathing, but his hands roamed everywhere, all over me. As they moved below my waist and his fingers slipped into my folds to caress me, I turned to face him.
"Em," he whispered, and tears sprang to my eyes as I saw the nakedly vulnerable look on his face. He telegraphed apology and a quest for forgiveness and reassurance, all with one look. And at the same time, his hands roamed over me hungrily, now covering the backs of my thighs and slipping over my ass. My heart brimmed as my body ignited.
As we kissed, tongues tangling, he rolled me beneath him. Devouring my neck, shoulders, chest, he kissed his way down. Flicks of his tongue on my nipples made my back arch, his big hands holding my waist, eyes seeking mine.
Stroking my belly, he shifted down. As he lapped at my folds he grasped my hips, squeezing, then pushed his hands under me to cup my backside and hold me against him. I wanted him there, but needed him inside me. Reaching down, I gently touched under his chin, leading him back up. In one swift stroke he entered me, groaning softly.
My blood roared in my ears as my pulse raced. Quinn's intensity poured into me and I tingled all over, wrapped my legs around his hips and pushed forward to meet his thrusts. His eyes bore into mine, closing only as he kissed me. As we moved together and the friction and pressure built, I suddenly felt myself folding inward, still hurt and sad from the days before. I fought it, wanting us to get past it and move on, but I couldn't let go. I could feel Quinn getting closer to orgasm, his body bucking, his kisses deepening. As he got closer, I slipped farther away.
"Em, ah, God. I missed you so much," he whispered, wrapping his arms around me and holding me tightly. "You feel amazing."
I squeezed him to me. As his thrusts got faster and harder, he whispered in my ear, "I want to hear you. Please."
But I couldn't. I wanted to let go, to let myself, but I still felt too raw.
He pulled back to look at me. He must have seen the struggle on my face because he slowed, held himself up on his elbows, pushed my hair back from my face. Kissing me softly, he shifted, slipping his right hand under me to grasp the opposite side of my butt. Staring into my eyes, he thrust hard, using his hand to angle my hips as they met his, hitting a hypersensitive place inside me. I cried out.
He did it again, and this time I felt it all over, pleasure shooting through me.
The next time he kissed me and squeezed my ass right as he hit the same spot, and I shuddered.
Over and over he moved me up and toward him as he thrust hard, never speeding up, searching my eyes the whole time, focusing on my reactions. A trickle of sweat running down the side of his face was the only thing that gave away how much control he was exerting to do this, to draw me out.
Each time he did it I felt it more intensely, let go a tiny bit more.
After several long minutes he bent his head to lick my nipple as he thrust again and I climaxed suddenly and so hard, trembling all over, arching and gasping. As the waves wracked me he sped up and came with me, squeezing me so tightly I could barely breathe.
CHAPTER 24
A few days later, after breakfast at the Beach House, I was starting to help Anna clean up when Dennis walked in unexpectedly.
"Hi ladies. Emmy, may I have a word?"
"Dennis! Of course. Should we go into the kitchen?"
"No, let's go outside for a moment."
Anna nodded at me as I followed him through the kitchen and out the back door.
I thought we were going to stand out on the little back porch, but Dennis kept walking, down the stairs and around the back, toward the path to the beach.
"Is everything OK?" I asked.
"No Emmy, I'm afraid it isn't," he muttered, looking grim. There was a long pause and I was about to ask him what was wrong when he stopped.
We were standing on the little lane that led to the beach, far enough away from the inn so that no one would hear.
"It's Elaine, Emmy. She's- well, she's having a bit of a rough time, and Lauren and I have asked her to take a leave of absence."
Silently, I waited for him to continue.
He sighed. "I don't have to tell you that her drinking has caused problems over the years, and the last few months…" he shook his head. "We hoped she would get better, or get help. She has in the past. And things would get better for a while. But I suppose the stress of her mother's illness and Quinn's visit, and then Mr. Matthews... I guess it was all too much for her."
"Dennis, is she OK? Did something happen to her?" I asked, genuinely concerned. She had been terrible to me in some ways, but we'd had moments of fun and real affection over the years. And since it wasn't her who had betrayed me, I just couldn't muster up enough ire to feel anything but worried for her.
Dennis gave me a sad smile. "She is all right. Physically, I mean. It's good of you to ask, and to care about her, Emmy. I know she's been... hard on you. As I think you know, Elaine's mother and mine grew up together. They were best friends, just like sisters. My home life was, well, difficult, and Elaine's mother treated me like her own son, took me in when I needed to get out of the house. Elaine also. She's several years older than I, and she helped me through some very tough times. I've always been grateful to her, so I've always tried to take care of her. And I trusted her, because she's like family to me. But her, ah, troubles lately have begun to interfere with my business, and I can't have that. Lauren agrees."
He paused, clearly pained.
"Dennis, I- I don't know what to say. I'm so sorry," I said quietly.
"Thank you, Emmy. I'm sorry, too. Lauren and I both are. We had no idea that she was treating you as she was. Obviously we would have put a stop to it. I wanted to thank you for your patience and discretion. For trying to protect her and for covering for her. I also wanted to tell you that going forward if you have any issues, any problems or concerns, Lauren and I want to make sure you know that you can come to us. You should come to us. Whatever it is, we will back you up. I hope you know that."
"Thank you." I smiled. I was going to need some time to process all of this.
"So Emmy, we'd like you to take over Elaine's duties. I'd like to call it a promotion and officially name you the general manager of the Beach House, but if it's all right, I think we should call it temporary among the other staff just until we know for sure what Elaine is going to do. She won't be coming back as GM; things aren't going to go back to the way they were. She knows that. But she isn't being fired. I'd just like to pay her the respect of letting it come from
her. So I want to wait to make it official until that happens. Is that all right with you? Obviously this will include a raise, and that will be effective immediately," he finished, looking at me expectantly.
"Dennis, I'm flattered. I really am. I'll be happy to do it, and we can certainly wait to announce it officially."
He smiled, visibly relieved.
"Thank you, Emmy. Lauren and I knew you would be a team player. We've come to really rely on you."
"I am going to need some help," I noted. "I've taken on some of Elaine's job already, but I'm sure there are things I haven't been doing. I appreciate the raise, but I also think we'll need more help, at least part time."
"Yes, yes, of course," he said, mulling it over. "Can you send me a job description for your role, and I'll have Elaine do the same. Then we'll sit down, you, Lauren and me, and figure out what your new job is, and how much help we need to do the remaining tasks."
"That sounds great. Thank you."
"No, thank you, Emmy, really. I hate that this is happening to Elaine, but in an odd way I have a feeling it will be good for the Beach House. And for you. You've shown us that you're ready for a much bigger challenge. I hope this is good for you."
It wasn't until later that I realized I never asked him how he knew about how Elaine was treating me.
Even though our relationship no longer jeopardized my job, Quinn still had to stay out of sight for the moment. So the usual dating stuff—dinners out, movies, concerts—were off limits for us. And we still couldn’t be open about it at the Beach House.
We spent a lot of time at my apartment, and we went to Jordie's house sometimes for a change of scenery. When I had a day or a morning off and Quinn was free, we would go running, or hike the fire roads in Ojai, stealing an orange or two off the trees when we took a break. Evenings we watched a lot of movies and old TV shows on Netflix. I got him into the original Twilight Zone series I used to watch as a kid, and he hooked me on some great BBC shows.
One night we drove down to LA and watched Bon Iver play at the Hollywood Bowl. We sat backstage, holding hands and keeping to ourselves, Quinn's famous face tucked under a baseball hat. In a quiet voice he sang every song to me.
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