They almost seemed… But surely not…
Exactly what kind of books are these?
Tentatively, she opened a file with the title Alice Goes Down the Rabbit Hole and skimmed the first page. She clasped her hand to her mouth, whether to stifle a giggle or a scream she wasn’t sure. Good lord. I can’t read this out loud. The giggling won out at first. After all, she wasn’t sure which was more unlikely, that someone would decide to write an entire series of erotic books based on beloved bedtime stories, or that she, Cecily DuPont, would end up with the entire collection of them installed on her e-reader.
But then reality struck. She couldn’t do this project. It wasn’t that she was drawing a moral line in the sand, either. She was absolutely determined to succeed in learning how to take care of herself and in earning her own keep. She would do anything she was capable of to make that happen, to become the type of woman that she wanted to be. She simply wasn’t capable of doing this job because she didn’t think her vocal chords could force the words from her lips without choking to death in the attempt.
She’d come a long way in leaving the uptight suburban housewife she had been back in Connecticut for good. But she had to face facts. She was still the woman who, when accidentally using a raunchy phrase for an activity she had absolutely no qualms about participating in, had nearly melted through the floorboards in embarrassment just from saying the words. To her own girlfriend. Talking dirty was simply not in her skill set. Every person had their limitations, and this was hers.
Swallowing hard, she eyed her phone, then reached into a pocket of her purse and pulled out the stack of business cards that her new friends had given her. It was time. She couldn’t fight against it any longer. First, she would contact Phil and break the news. After that, she had some agents to contact. Despite her trepidation, the prospect of booking a more rewarding acting gig put a smile on her face.
Chapter 7
Rorie stared, bemused, at the newspapers that were piled high on Cecily’s kitchen table. “Taking this coupon clipping pretty seriously, aren’t you?”
“I had no idea how much money I was wasting all these years! Did you know that there are people who actually get most of their groceries free from extreme couponing?” Cecily’s eyes glistened with the fervor of the recent convert.
“Extreme couponing?” Is ‘couponing’ even a word?
“Uh-huh!” Cecily’s entire body seemed to buzz with enthusiasm. “There’s a whole system to it. See, first I get as many copies of the Sunday paper as I can find. I noticed a few of the neighbors were throwing theirs in the recycling without taking out the coupon sections, so I asked if I could have them.”
“Okay…”
“Then I clip the coupons and sort them into these binders.” She patted a thick stack of three-ring binders next to the newspapers. “They’re sorted into sections by type of food, and then arranged alphabetically according to manufacturer. Although I was thinking I should reorganize them by grocery store…” Cecily’s voice trailed off and her face slackened, deep in thought.
“So, then you take them with you when you go shopping?” As someone who had not grown up in the upper half-of-one percent of the income spectrum, Rorie had a fairly solid understanding of the coupon concept, but she loved how excited Cecily was over this discovery. Her face shone with the same enthusiasm that Rorie’s little cousin had displayed when she found out she could magically create rainbows with the spray from the garden hose.
“Well, that’s what you do as a level one or two,” Cecily replied with a knowing look. “But not if you want to reach level three.”
“There are levels?”
Cecily nodded earnestly. “Four of them.”
It’s starting to sound like she’s joined a cult. Rorie’s amusement ebbed as she pictured their quiet date night turning into a pitch for some shady pyramid scheme.
“I’m only a level two right now,” Cecily explained, “but I downloaded an app that will help me track the lowest prices at all the local stores and find printable coupons, too. If I do it right, I should be saving around eighty-percent by next month. Eighty-percent! That will extend the time I can go without work by at least two weeks.”
Which meant that the search for a job was not going well. “So that audio book guy, Phil, didn’t have any more, um, suitable projects coming up?”
“Just the x-rated bedtime stories.” Cecily’s nose wrinkled at the memory.
“And they were all like that?” Rorie’s lips twitched as she fought back a laugh. Oh, to have seen the look on Cecily’s face when she opened those books…
“I will never be able to look back on reading Little Red Riding Hood to Tyler when he was little without feeling slightly dirty. And Alice in Wonderland. Oh, God.” She shuddered.
“Do I even want to know what the ‘rabbit hole’ thing was all about?”
“You do not.”
Rorie put her hands on Cecily’s shoulders, kneading the muscles until they relaxed under her fingers. “Still no word from the agents?”
“Well, not, uh…” Cecily’s back stiffened against Rorie’s hands.
She’s definitely heard something, and doesn’t like it. For an actress, Cecily had a surprisingly difficult time hiding things, especially from Rorie.
“There was one who thought he could line up some steady work for me as an extra. But it was Jonas, the same agent who treated Bailey so badly. You know how I feel about him.”
Work as an extra? Rorie smiled. That was exactly the type of job she'd been praying for Cecily to find. It would be exciting, but safe, and would keep her close to home. “But, babe. You’ve based your entire opinion about this on a single person’s experience. And if I’m not mistaken, Bailey’s still with that agency, so it can’t have been that bad. Last I heard, she and Phinn were blissfully happy together and Bailey had just gotten a television pilot.”
“True, but—”
“He gets results.”
Cecily nodded, more subdued than before. The oven timer beeped and her face lit up again. “Dinner’s ready!”
Rorie gave the air an exaggerated sniff. “Smells good, as always. Want me to set the table?” She scowled at the coupon paraphernalia that covered all but one corner of the eating area.
Cecily followed her gaze and grinned sheepishly. “Sorry! We could just eat in the living room in front of the TV, I guess.”
“Nope. We’re not giving into that temptation. Not on date night. It’ll only take a minute to clear.”
“Are you sure?”
“Are you kidding? Half the reason I didn’t put up a bigger fuss when you said you wanted your own place was the promise of fancy dinners and lots of sex on the weekends.”
“Oh, is that right?” Cecily snorted with laughter as Rorie waggled her eyebrows suggestively. “I’m afraid a home-cooked casserole isn’t very fancy, but it’s all I can afford at the moment,” she added apologetically.
Rorie shrugged. “I’ll settle for one out of two.” She wrapped her arms around Cecily, drawing her close for a kiss just as the oven timer sounded again. “Better go get that,” she said, releasing her grip after one last peck. “What’d you make, anyway?”
“It’s a recipe I found on one of the coupon blogs. The woman who posted it calls herself the Frugal Homesteader. She grows her own vegetables, which is more hardcore than even a level four couponer, if you think about it. That’s free food. But I couldn’t exactly grow an instant garden, so I used some canned vegetables, instead.”
Rorie’s brow wrinkled. Canned vegetables? The Cecily she knew never bought anything that wasn’t fresh and organic. “You know there’s a farmers market down the street on weekends. We could check it out tomorrow.” Rorie noticed a flicker of uncertainty on Cecily’s face and only then did it occur to her that there’d been a hidden motivation behind her choice.
“It’s just, I scored a dozen cans for twenty-two cents each, after rebate, so… .”
“Well, how could anyo
ne pass up a deal like that? I’m sure it’ll be perfect,” Rorie assured her.
With the table cleared and set, Rorie took her seat while Cecily carried the casserole dish from the oven and set it on the waiting trivet. She scooped a generous serving onto Rorie’s plate, then repeated this with her own plate before sitting down across the table.
Rorie lifted a forkful of the casserole to her mouth, blew away the steam, and took a bite. She chewed thoughtfully, rolling the food across her tongue, waiting for the flavors to hit. After several seconds, she was forced to admit the truth. There simply were no flavors there to taste. One look at Cecily’s stricken face informed her that she’d reached a similar conclusion. The words ‘let’s go out to dinner, my treat’ hovered on Rorie’s lips, but at the last second she thought better of it and swallowed the words along with another bland lump of casserole.
Over the course of the past several weeks, they’d reached an unspoken understanding that Rorie could pay whenever they were at her place in Westwood, but not when they were at Cecily’s house. It was a compromise that Rorie regretted now. But Rorie knew Cecily well enough to know that she wouldn’t welcome a change in the routine, no matter how tempting the thought of a burger at the diner or a pizza delivered to the porch was. She’d interpret it as a personal failure, and Rorie couldn’t let her fail.
Surrounded by stacks of coupons and talk of penny pinching, it was easy to forget that Cecily was in this situation entirely of her own free will. She could get out of it at any point with a five minute phone call to her bank, and yet she chose to continue. Cecily didn’t need Rorie to buy her dinner; she needed her to believe that she could take care of herself in hard times. So that’s what Rorie would do.
“It’s good,” Rorie lied as she steeled herself to take another bite.
“It’s terrible.” Cecily pushed her plate away in disgust and wiped her mouth with a paper napkin. “The canned vegetables are mushy and the generic cream soup has the consistency of glue. But thank you.”
“For what?”
“Eating it anyway, even though I know you’re dying to suggest we order a pizza.”
Cecily often accused Rorie of being able to read her mind, but this time the tables were turned. “Fine, I was thinking that. But I refrained. Actually, I just assumed if the fancy dinner came up short, you’d feel morally obligated to make up for it with extra sex.”
“Yeah, I’ll bet you did.” Cecily crumpled up the napkin in her hand and lobbed it across the table with a playful smirk. “That can be arranged. But first, I think I have something that will erase the memory of this horrible meal.” She rose from the table, returning a moment later with a large orange bag. “Cheese puffs. After a double store coupon, plus a manufacturer’s coupon, I got the jumbo bag for thirty-seven cents. They have cheese in them, so they’re almost like dinner.”
“Oh, thank God. I’m so hungry.” Rorie eagerly took a handful of puffs and stuffed them into her mouth. “And for thirty-seven cents, I’d say you’re a coupon clipping genius.”
“I don’t know about that. But I’m stubborn. I’m not going to break my rules if I can help it, but I also don’t want another disaster like tonight.” Cecily wrinkled her nose at her plate. “Clearly coupon clipping has its limitations. I need a job. So, I guess I’ll be giving Bailey’s agent a call back on Monday.”
“I’m proud of you. I know it’s not your first choice, but it’s smart. A lot of LA shows are back in production next week. They’ll be looking for extras.”
“I was a little scared because I’d never acted in front of a camera before, but filming that show reel with Frankie was a lot more fun than I thought it would be.”
Rorie shifted from her chair and stood behind Cecily, massaging tiny circles with her thumbs against Cecily’s neck. “If you get an audition near my studio, I can take you out for dinner after. Maybe a big, juicy steak…”
“Mm, that sounds so tempting.” Cecily moaned a little as she said it, Rorie’s thumb having made contact with a particularly tight muscle at just that moment, and the sound sent a wave of desire coursing through Rorie’s insides.
“I can think of a few other things that might tempt you…”
Cecily swiveled in her chair, wrapping her arms around Rorie’s waist and resting her chin against her abdomen. “Really? What did you have in mind?” The innocence on her upturned face was belied by the playful squeeze of her hands against Rorie’s buttocks.
Rorie massaged her hands once more against Cecily’s shoulder blades. “Well, for starters, I think a hot bath and a few minutes with that shower massager would do wonders for the tension in your neck.”
The hint of a cloud passed over Cecily’s face. “Did you know that heating enough water for that big tub costs almost ten dollars? Every time.”
There was just enough seriousness in her tone that Rorie feared this wasn’t a joke. “Cici,” she said sternly, “you can clip coupons to your heart’s content. Grow all your own vegetables. Only shop on Freecycle, for all I care. I applaud your dedication to your budget. I really do. But we’re not giving up the tub.”
“You seem very determined about this.” Cecily’s eyes twinkled in amusement.
“I’ll pay the damned water bill myself if it comes down to it.”
Cecily stood from the table, laughing. “No, I can pay the bill.” She sauntered down the hallway toward her bedroom with an exaggerated swish to her hips as Rorie followed. “But ten dollars is pretty expensive. Just be warned, I do expect to get my money’s worth.”
Chapter 8
Rorie appraised the island in her kitchen with the skilled eye of a designer, noting with satisfaction the way the simple wooden bowl of green apples perfectly balanced the antique milk jug filled with sunflowers. There were throw pillows and a pitcher of iced tea on the patio—highly sweetened, of course, since Cecily had taken charge of making it—and an artfully arranged display of books on the coffee table in the living room. It might feel like a complete stranger lived here, but when the interviewer from Backstage Pass magazine arrived, Rorie’s house was photo-ready.
“And…voila! One lavender and lemon layer cake with fresh butter cream frosting. Where do you want it?” Cecily balanced the cake stand in both hands, carefully holding her masterpiece as she awaited Rorie’s instructions.
“Cici, that’s gorgeous! You know when I said all this island needed was a homemade layer cake, I didn’t actually mean you had to make one. But thank you, it’s stunning. I can’t wait to taste it after the photos are done.”
“Yeah, I’m hoping the fact that I used shortening instead of butter in the butter cream frosting won’t be too noticeable. It’s just, I had a two-for-one coupon, so…” Cecily grinned wickedly at the horrified expression on Rorie’s face. “I’m joking!”
“It wouldn’t be the first time a prop cake was used to stage a set, but I did kind of have my heart set on eating it when this is over,” she admitted with a sigh of relief.
Technically this wasn’t a set, but with a writer and a photographer coming over to do a five-page spread about her for one of Hollywood’s most respected industry publications, Rorie was treating the occasion as seriously as she would any job. It was a huge honor to be chosen for an at-home feature story, and naturally readers expected an award-winning set designer to live in a house that looked like it had come right out of a movie. Of course, those movie sets looked so good because they didn’t have real people living in them. Dirty dishes and baskets of unfolded laundry didn’t exist on sound stages, and their bathroom sinks were never marred by a glob of toothpaste that failed to rinse away. It had taken a few days of scrubbing, then rearranging furniture, plus more than one emergency shopping trip, but looking around now, Rorie felt confident the public would be impressed by the result.
“This is a really big deal, isn’t it?” Cecily asked, sliding an arm around Rorie’s waist.
“It’s good for the ego, that’s for sure.”
When the phone
calls announcing Emmy nominations started going around earlier in the week and it became clear that the show Rorie worked on had been snubbed not only in her category of production design but also in virtually every other category as well, it had dealt a real blow to her morale. The show was a fan favorite and there had been Emmy buzz for months. Being passed over in such a public way was a real let down, but Rorie had dismissed it quickly and focused her attention on preparing even better designs for the next season. The fans of the show didn’t let it go nearly so easily, though. The result of their outcry was more media attention than a dozen Emmys could’ve secured, including Rorie’s feature interview in Backstage Pass.
When the interviewer, Tracy, and her photographer arrived, they began by sweeping through the house, taking pictures of absolutely everything from every possible angle. Butterflies fluttered in Rorie’s stomach as she watched, Cecily’s hand gripped for reassurance. Though she’d worked in Hollywood for almost twenty years, she’d always been behind the scenes and was unaccustomed to this level of attention being aimed at her.
“Ms. Mulloy? We’re ready for you now,” Tracy announced as the photographer finished setting up lighting in the living room and affixed a small video camera to a tripod.
Rorie continued to clutch Cecily’s hand as she made her way into the room, only letting her fingers drift away when she took a seat on the sofa opposite Tracy. Cecily stood awkwardly, seemingly uncertain whether she should sit or wait in a different room.
“You can sit in the chair,” Tracy suggested helpfully. “Miss—?”
“DuPont. But just call me Cecily. I’m Rorie’s girlfriend.”
It wasn’t the first time Cecily had said those words in the months they’d been together, but Rorie never tired of hearing them, or feeling the corresponding tremor of delight that warmed her insides when they were said. On impulse, she reached across the arm of the sofa and linked pinkies with Cecily again as soon as she’d sat down. They remained that way throughout the interview, bolstering Rorie’s strength as Tracy asked question after question about her professional life.
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