VANCE: A Movie Star Romance

by Lucy Lambert

  “Are you calling yourself an asshole?” she asked.

  “I’m telling you I’m upfront with what I want.”

  “And can you deal with not getting what you want?”

  This time when I laughed, there was humor in it. I watched the road, felt her watching me.

  “I told you that I’m willing to do what it takes to get what I want. Not that I expect to get everything I want as soon as I want it.”

  This time, I did catch the red. It was at that cusp when I thought if I goosed the pedal I could have shot through the intersection on the yellow light.

  But the last thing I wanted at that moment was getting pulled over. So instead I stepped on the brake.

  The seat belt locked, digging into my shoulder.

  Erin was quiet. She chewed on her lower lip again, considering. Clearly I said something to her that she hadn’t expected.

  The light changed. I took us through the intersection. I kept watching her from the corner of my eye, thinking how lovely she looked in profile. Almost in silhouette in the failing light.

  “You need to stop doing that,” I said.

  “Hmm?” she said.

  “Chewing your lip like that. It’s distracting.”

  She let her lip out from between her teeth and licked it. Glanced at me, away from me, back at me.

  “I don’t even really realize I’m doing it. Just an old, nervous habit.”

  Well, it’s a huge turn on, I almost said. It was the wrong time to say something like that, though. I could feel her starting to slip away.

  But also wanting to stay, and I fixed on that. Because I couldn’t let her get away. Not then, not after that guy took our pictures. Pictures that would be online tomorrow. Tonight, even.

  And it wouldn’t do to have the follow up story be a refusal from her.

  There was all that. And there was also that even not taking that into account I didn’t want that to happen.

  Though I wondered if maybe I should let her go, let her refuse me.

  Because it wasn’t fair to put all of this on her.

  “I’ll try and stop it,” she said.

  For a couple of minutes, silence ruled in the car. The faint hum of the road accompanied it. The light rush of our breathing.

  She dropped her hands into her lap. Then she looked at me. I kept my eyes on the road.

  “You’re different from who I thought you were,” she said.

  “I see,” I replied, smiling. “In a good way, or a bad way?”

  “I’m not sure. Both, maybe.”

  And then our ride came to an end.

  Her building loomed up, most of the windows now lit from within. I pulled up under the covered U-shaped driveway at the front doors and put the car in park.

  My hands felt stiff when I took them off the wheel.

  She didn’t get out right away. Instead, she turned and looked at me. “What would you do if I asked you to come up with me?”

  That tingle of desire flared up low in my stomach again. My hands weren’t the only things aching anymore.

  “I would want to. But I wouldn’t,” I said.

  Her eyes hardened in the semi dark of the Corvette’s cabin. “Why?”

  “Because this isn’t what I want. Not how I want it, at least. I want more than just your lust.” I smiled. “I’m not just a booty call.”

  If we’d pulled up a couple minutes earlier. If she hadn’t said that bit about me being different from what she thought, but she wasn’t certain if I was different in a good way or a bad one, I would’ve had her in my lap in the car right at that moment.

  But she had said those things. And I did want to be different from how she originally thought of me.

  I wanted her to think better of me. No, I needed her to. And jumping her bones tonight wasn’t the path to that. Even if I wanted to. Even if I wanted her badly.

  Tonight, if I let it, would just be about satisfying some craving we both had. Fulfilling that lust.

  Besides, I heard Rudy’s voice in my head, What if that photographer is more enterprising than you thought and followed you back to see if there weren’t some more juicy pictures to take?

  And if that were the case, I didn’t want it to happen.

  “My roommates are probably all home anyway,” Erin said.

  “I’ve never let roommates stop me before,” I replied. I bit back the second part, the one where I asked, Are any of them cute?

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said.

  Erin nodded. She pulled the door handle and put her shoulder into it. When she climbed out, I caught a tantalizing glimpse of thigh when that little black number she wore rose a little. Something to think about later.

  Without really thinking, I reached out and took her wrist before she could escape completely.

  Okay, let’s do this. Get back in here, I wanted to say.

  She looked back at me, expectant. I knew then she’d still agree to it.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” I said instead.

  “Yeah, definitely. Boss,” she said with a wink. Then she tugged her wrist out of my hand.

  I watched her, made sure she got inside okay. Well, that, and I liked the way her dress hugged around her hips.

  Chapter 14

  ERIN

  I made a quick right and then watched out the wire-reinforced glass window while Vance drove away.

  Why did I do that? Why did I try and invite him up?

  My heart kept stammering, reminding me of someone wrenching on a lawnmower’s starter cord. Revving high for a few moments before dying. Pumping like it did, my whole body buzzed with tingly heat.

  I put my impromptu invitation down to momentary mania. I had the chance to get a famous movie star up to my apartment, maybe even in my bed.

  I wasn’t certain there were many people out there who wouldn’t try something similar.

  I was at once irritated with him for refusing me, and happy.

  Because I knew it was a decision I would have regretted. And I think he knew that too, somehow.

  I went up to my apartment, listened to the lock click while I slid the key in.

  I just wanted to throw on my PJs and just put everything out of my mind for a few hours. Maybe log into Mandi’s Netflix account while she was at work and watch a few episodes of Gilmore Girls or something.

  Just so long as that something had nothing at all to do with Warhawk or Vance Tracker.

  “Hey.”

  I almost jumped out of my skin.

  I turned. Danny stood a bit down the hall, hands shoved into pockets and his bony elbows pointing at the walls.

  “Hi,” I said. It’s Danny. Just Danny.

  And then, What the hell is Danny doing here?

  “Hi again,” he said. It was a common little joke of his, seeing how long he could keep up the pointless greetings.

  “I have to say, Danny, this is kind of weird. Why are you here?”

  I saw my keys dangling in the little circular brass plate of the lock. I reached up and turned the lock. The bolt shot back.

  “I saw you go with him. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

  “Just fine, thanks. You really shouldn’t have,” I said.

  I wasn’t really scared of Danny. Not physically, anyway. The guy had two long spaghetti noodles for arms and the upper body strength of a prepubescent Girl Scout. I knew this second fact watching him try to move things around the set.

  In this relationship, I was the heavy lifter. Not exactly being a bodybuilder myself, that was saying something.

  But I was not getting good vibes from him at that moment, pushover or not.

  “I hate that guy,” he said, “I bet he just talked about himself the whole time. Where’d you guys go, anyway?”

  “Downtown,” I said, certain that was about as specific as I wanted to get.

  “Of course. Hey, want to go on a Starbucks run with me? Fraps, my treat? It’ll help you get him off your mind.”

  He took
a few steps closer. Not quite invading my personal space, but close enough that I prickled with his presence.

  “Nah. Think I’m just going to curl up with some Netflix…”

  “And chill? I can provide the chill,” he said. He reached out and touched my arm, just above the elbow. He wasn’t exactly grabbing and squeezing. But he could if he wanted.

  I’ve had just about enough of guys for one evening, I thought. The creep-factor gave way to irritation, with some genuine anger simmering underneath.

  First Vance, now Danny. I need a break.

  “Danny, I’m just not interested.”

  “In what?” he asked. He was tall and gangly and his eyes kept darting around. I wondered if maybe he’d had a bit too much Starbucks already.

  “In you. Not in that way. I like working with you, I like hanging out every now and then. But that’s all. I want to make this extremely crystal clear here: I’m not interested in you romantically.”

  His hand dropped from my arm, and he shoved both fists back into his pockets.

  “He got to you, didn’t he? You got all star-struck and you forgot how much you hated him.”

  I shuffled back a little, partly because I wanted some distance, partly because what he said wasn’t really the truth but a bit closer to it than I wanted.

  I invited Vance up here. What if Danny had seen that?

  “No, he didn’t,” I said, trying to inject some self-righteousness into my voice, “And even if anything like that happened, it’s none of your business. I just want to stay friends, okay?”

  He didn’t hear any of it. Instead, he tried kissing me. He grabbed my shoulders and tried wrenching me towards him. Since he didn’t really have the strength, we both just sort of leaned in towards each other.

  I got my hands up in time and pushed him. Hard. He staggered back a couple steps.

  Then he grimaced. His face twisted up and then he reminded me of Linda when she’d made a similar expression. Anger was ugly.

  “I knew it. I knew he’d screw this up for me. I’m a good guy, Erin. We talk and joke at work. We gripe about the job together. I bring you coffee! It’s like a thirty minute walk from my place to here. I do a lot for you.”

  For a moment, I was deliriously happy that Vance took me out of the general PA pool and away from Danny.

  Vance. I thought about what Vance told me just minutes ago in his car, about nice guys and how they used their niceness like currency.

  “I don’t owe you anything, Danny,” I said, “I’m sorry if you think I do. Now, I'm going to do both of us a favor and go inside, where I’m going to forget this happened. Maybe you should do something similar.”

  “He’ll chew you up like a piece of gum and spit you out when all the flavor’s gone. You know he will,” Danny insisted.

  He looked like he wanted to close in again.

  I went inside while I had the chance. I closed the door behind me and threw the deadbolt a second later.

  “Erin?” Danny said from the other side of the door. “Let me in. I’m sorry. Really, it was all just a joke. Funny, eh?”

  He laughed then. A forced laugh.

  “Just go home, Danny. Please.”

  Some unintelligible muttering came in through the door. But then it receded and I heard the door to the stairwell open and shut, the hinges in need of oiling and squealing a little.

  Sam poked her freckled face out through the kitchen doorway. I found myself wondering why she was always in the kitchen now. I never saw her making any food. And she sure didn’t wash the dishes.

  “Bad date?” she asked.

  “Something like that,” I replied. I kicked off my flats and flexed my toes.

  “You know, dressed up like that I thought you might come up with some company. Why’d you leave him in the hall?”

  “That was Danny out there. I went out with… well, with someone else,” I said. If I told her who, that might lead to more conversation. And after so much heart-pounding this evening, I needed a break.

  “Didn’t go well?”

  “It did, actually. That reminds me…I need to swear off men for a while. Do me a favor and tell me to remember this night next time I say I’m going out,” I said.

  Sam scrunched her cute, freckly face. “Remind you of your good date next time you want to go out with a guy so that you can remember why you don’t want to go out with guys. Got it.”

  “Well it just sounds ridiculous when you put it that way!” I said, smiling. It felt nice to smile again, in earnest.

  Though that made me think of Vance’s perfect smile, and that sort of ruined it.

  “I think it’s ridiculous any way you want to put it,” Sam said.

  “Good night, Sam,” I said.

  “Good night? It’s not even ten yet!” she said while I walked down the hall past her.

  “Yep,” I replied breezily. Walking into my room, I sucked in a deep breath, so deep my ribs ached. I held it, then breathed it all out. Then I fell on my bed.

  A bed I could have been sharing with Vance right at this very second.

  I thought of the look that Sam would’ve had on her face if I walked into the apartment hanging off Vance’s arm.

  I laughed.

  It really wasn’t a bad date, was it? I thought.

  Then: I hope he doesn’t ask me out on any more of them.

  I resolved to remain purely professional beyond this point with him. No more dates. No more weirdly intimate meetings with him alone in his trailer.

  In fact, it would be best if a third person could always be with us.

  At least I don’t have to see Danny tomorrow, I thought. Again, I was happy Vance took me out of the rotation.

  I succeeded. For just over the next two hours at work the following day before the proverbial stuff hit the proverbial fan blades and went all over the place.

  Vance didn’t ask me to help read his lines. Instead, I made sure he showed up to the pre-shoot reading.

  I could have texted him. But a text was an easy thing to ignore. That was why I thought people liked texts so much. They gave you time. You didn’t have to say anything right away.

  Luckily, I’d snagged myself a copy of the shooting schedule for Vance, which included all of the readings and fittings and all that.

  I called him the next morning, just after my alarm blared me awake.

  Were there dreams? Yes. Did they involve Vance? Maybe. Did they involve Vance and myself in certain, compromising situations? I’ll leave that one at probably.

  I woke up flushed in the face, my duvet and sheets a kicked tangle of stuffed cotton at the foot of my bed.

  I wasted no time.

  I snatched up my phone and called him before I could convince myself not to.

  He picked up after two rings. “Hey, Erin. I wasn’t expecting to hear from you just yet. But this is nice.”

  His voice sounded different over the phone.

  “Vance,” I started. But then I got a flashback. Maybe I should have waited longer to call him.

  A fragment of dream surfaced in my mind. Our bodies pressed together. Vance whispering my name into my ear.

  It was enough that my breath caught in my throat.

  Definitely not a good idea.

  “What is it? Is this about last night? Because I meant what I said,” Vance said.

  I wasn’t certain, what with the difference the phone made, but did I detect some hint of concern?

  “No,” I said, putting last night - date, dreams, and all - from my mind. “This is about this morning, actually. You're scheduled to do a reading today before shooting and I just wanted to make you aware of that. So there’s not a repeat of that first incident.”

  This time I could pretty much hear that crooked grin of his as it came through the phone. “Incident? Interesting way of putting a kiss.”

  I sat on my bed. This intense flood of heat rushed down from the center of my chest and into, well, into everything else.

  He was a good k
isser. I could even remember how he tasted. Why could I remember so clearly?

  “I was referring,” I said, “more to the emergency reading with me, instead of with your fellow cast members. I think everyone would appreciate it if that didn’t happen again.”

  There was a momentary pause. “Even you?”

  “Yes,” I said after a pause of my own.

  “You don’t sound so certain of that,” he said.

  I was, though. At least, I thought so. I’d decided it during the third episode in a row of Gilmore Girls last night. I wasn't just going to be taken along for a ride by a guy. It didn’t matter if that guy was Danny the creepy PA, or Vance Tracker the movie star.

  I had my own life, my own plans, and if I couldn’t get myself to respect them, then how could I get anyone else to?

  “I am. Please make sure you’re at the reading on time.” Then I ended the call.

  Did I really just hang up on him? Just a few days ago I was only another film student senior hoping that I might find some job in the business.

  With graduation coming up, even the thought of another unpaid internship had come up as a possibility. Except even those were hard to get.

  And I’d just hung up on Vance Tracker, a man whose movies grossed well over a billion dollars globally.

  It seemed like a good idea when I thought of it during the call.

  Who am I now?

  No answer came. Even my subconscious mind didn’t want to prod that question with a ten-foot stick.

  I sat there with my cell in my lap for a couple of minutes. Part of me thought that he would call me back for sure.

  Guys always wanted the last word.

  Except Vance didn’t call.

  I smiled. Is this actually working? I thought maybe it was.

  And it even continued to after I got to the studio lot. Like I said, for just over two hours everything went swimmingly. Or as well as it could be expected to, at least.

  I saw Danny off in the distance, pulling a hand truck loaded down with more crates into the warehouse. He didn’t see me.

  I could have gone to Vance’s trailer, I knew. Sat there with my computer.

  But I didn’t. Instead I went into the offices and found a vacant conference room. I sat at the oval table and opened my laptop. The well-padded executive chairs around the table were nice, and I thought this was a good choice.