Casting Lacey

by Elle Spencer

  Quinn covered her mouth to keep from giggling.

  “So, no apology?” Lacey deadpanned, interrupting him.

  “We’ll talk when you get here.”

  “No, Steve, we won’t.” Lacey motioned for Quinn to end the call.

  “You’re going to shut him down? Just like that?” Quinn asked. “What about your lost son?”

  Lacey sighed. “Okay, yeah. A few months ago, I would’ve raced back to New York for that meeting and embraced that storyline with every fiber of my being.”

  “So, what’s different?”

  Lacey turned to her, looking perplexed by the question. “Everything’s different. I have you, I have a prime-time show, I’m building a life here. A life I kind of like…except for this traffic.”

  Quinn didn’t reply. She’d already destroyed Lacey’s celebratory mood. If she actually articulated all the thoughts running through her confused mind, she’d obliterate their friendship. Lacey was right. Quinn was a total buzzkill.

  This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. None of this was part of the plan she and Jack had started with. It was supposed to be simple, straightforward. Not messy. Lacey was messy. Things could go horribly wrong. Like tonight. A biker bar? A fucking biker bar?

  As the security gate opened and Lacey pulled into the driveway, Quinn blurted out one of the things she’d been thinking about. “You might need to move out.”

  “What?” Lacey put the car in park. “Why?” she asked, seemingly thrown by the suggestion. “What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Won’t it seem weird that you’re already living in my home with me, when we’re supposed to accidentally fall in love on set?”

  “I don’t live in your home. I live in your guesthouse, and we’ve already established that we’re friends, not just co-workers.” Lacey stared at Quinn, waiting for a reply. “What is this really about?”

  Quinn shifted in her seat. She knew this wouldn’t end well, but she couldn’t take it back. “I just think it might be better if you move out, but I’ll talk to Jack about it.”

  “And in the meantime, you’ll tell Jack what you want, so just be honest. Why do you want me to go?”

  Quinn felt confused and worried and scared. She was a jumbled-up mess of emotions and she didn’t know what to do with any of them. She couldn’t read Lacey. She couldn’t tell what was sincere and what was fake. And she didn’t dare ask. What she needed, was some distance. “I don’t know what I want. I just know that it feels like maybe you’re getting a little too cozy.”

  Lacey shook her head in confusion. “Too…cozy? What does that mean? Too nice? Too helpful? Too friendly? Too what, exactly?”

  Quinn shrugged. “Too close, I guess. We were going to keep this professional and you’re blurring the lines.”

  Lacey’s mouth fell open. “Why, because I wanted to go home and celebrate with you?”

  “Just you and me. That’s what you said.”

  “Which means what to you? That I want to MOUNT you on the kitchen island?”

  “I don’t know, DO YOU?” Quinn shouted back.

  Lacey sighed in frustration as she got out of the car. “There’s that arrogance again. All I meant is that I don’t feel like spending the evening with a freaking publicist. I have that in common with pretty much everyone on earth.”

  Quinn met her at the front of the car, blocking her way. “Am I wrong?”

  “You’re an asshole, that’s what you are,” Lacey pushed her way past Quinn.

  “Lacey…”

  Lacey turned around. “I don’t want more, Quinn! I was just starting to feel like myself again, instead of all walled up and not trusting anyone in my life. God forbid we both get a friend out of this. Maybe that came off as too cozy…and maybe the truth is…you like me angry. Is that it? You like me all bound up in a knot, ready to explode? Is that who you want me to be? It makes you feel better if I’m more fucked up than you are?”

  Quinn shrugged her shoulders again. “I guess I just want you to be the person I hired to do the job.”

  “Yeah? Well, I don’t want to be that person anymore. She was…” Lacey took a deep breath. “Never mind.” She headed for the side gate instead of going into the house.

  “Hey, what about celebrating?” Quinn shouted.

  “Call Jack. He’s the one you want to be with anyway. Or, better yet, call Ginny Strong. She’s fucking perfect for you!” Lacey punched in the gate code and disappeared into the backyard.

  Quinn dropped her purse at her feet and sat on the sofa. The house felt dead quiet without Lacey there. She picked up the remote and turned on some music, trying to fill the silence.

  Was it a mistake to want to maintain a certain amount of distance between them? Was it cruel to want Lacey to keep her snarky, sarcastic attitude, even if it was born out of anger and frustration because her life had fallen apart?

  It was easier. That’s why Quinn wanted Lacey to stay the way she was. It was easier to not fall madly in love with her if every other word out of her mouth was fuck this and fuck that.

  She went to the back door and grabbed the handle, thinking she should go out there and apologize, but the light in the guesthouse wasn’t on. Maybe Lacey had already gone to bed. Or maybe she was showering off the biker bar. Quinn locked the door and slowly made her way upstairs. She’d apologize in the morning when Lacey had calmed down. Over coffee. Everything sounded better when coffee was involved.

  ***

  Lacey sat in the dark. She wiped her eyes, frustrated with herself for crying on what should’ve been one of the happiest nights of her life. They’d done it. They’d actually made Jordan and Selena into a couple that the viewers loved. And Lacey was now playing what would soon be a major role on a prime-time show. Life could not have been better. So, why the fuck was she crying?

  Lacey picked up her phone and opened her airline app.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Quinn woke up late, feeling grumpy and sore. She sat up and stuffed a cracker in her mouth, then swallowed a pain pill. Normally, Lacey would’ve been in there by now, plopped on the bed next to her, asking what sounded good for breakfast. “A toasted bagel and coffee,” Quinn said to the empty room.

  She sat on the edge of the bed for several minutes, regretting what she’d said to Lacey the night before. It was mean, just throwing it out there the way she had – that Lacey might have to leave her home. And go where? Where would Lacey move to on such short notice? Back to that shitty hotel in Hollywood she’d stayed at before?

  Quinn picked up her phone and tapped Lacey’s number. No one answered, so she hung up, afraid she’d stumble over an apology and screw it up if she tried to do it over voicemail. A better plan would be to put on her bathing suit, sit in the hot tub, loosen her muscles up, drink a cup of coffee and then try to make amends.

  ***

  The guesthouse door hadn’t opened. Quinn stared at it from the hot tub, willing it to open. After her designated ten minutes, she got out and went to the door, knocking twice. “Lacey?” She knocked again and punched in the code on the door lock. “Lacey?”

  Quinn stood there in her bikini, dripping water on the tiled floor and staring at an empty guesthouse. The bed looked like it hadn’t been slept in. In fact, the place looked spotless. Usually there were clothes strewn on the floor and draped over the furniture. Lacey wasn’t the tidiest person, Quinn had noticed.

  She looked behind her and noticed that there were no shoes by the door. Lacey always left her flip-flops by the door. “Shit,” Quinn whispered. She went into the bathroom and her shoulders fell as she let out a big sigh. She was gone. Lacey was gone. And so were all of her things.

  Quinn sat on a lounger by the pool with her phone to her ear. “Hey. Where…” she sucked in air. This was affecting her far more than she thought it would. “Where are you? Call me.” She tossed her phone on the table and wrapped her arms around herself. “Dammit!” she whispered. And then she said it louder. “Dammit, Lacey!”
<
br />   She couldn’t sit there forever in her bathing suit, waiting for a damn phone call, so she put on her bathrobe and went into the kitchen. She’d make breakfast. Maybe that toasted bagel she’d wanted when she woke up would taste good. With a super thin layer of peanut butter and honey – the way Lacey made it.

  Lacey. She made everything better. Even bagels.

  Quinn sat at the kitchen table, one leg tucked under the other, her head in her hand, waiting for her phone to ring. Her coffee was cold. Her bagel hadn’t been touched. She’d yet to put clothes on. Why should she when no one was going to see her? But that wasn’t like Quinn. She had a routine; exercise, breakfast, shower, emails, etcetera, etcetera, fucking etcetera.

  The broken arm had ruined everything. And Jack’s stupid idea. God! Why did she listen to him? But it wasn’t all Jack. The truth was, Quinn didn’t want to come out alone. She wanted someone on her arm, even if that someone wasn’t necessarily in love with her, or vice versa. She was afraid of all the speculation; all the reasons people would come up with for her sudden ‘lifestyle’ change. Was she just sick of men? Did her divorce ruin her for men? Was she just trying something new, spiraling out of control or seeking attention?

  No. Quinn wanted the world’s first impression of her as a lesbian to be one of having found true love, real love. Sure, it’d be temporary love, but wasn’t it always in Hollywood? This wasn’t Jack’s fault any more than it was Lacey’s. Quinn had brought this all on herself. She picked up her phone again. “Jack, I think I messed up.”

  As Quinn said the words, another call came through. She looked at her phone. “I’ll call you back. No, just let me call you back.” She stood up, pushing her chair back with her leg. “Lace. Lacey. God. Where are you?” Quinn couldn’t hide the desperation in her voice. “Your stuff, it’s all gone.”

  “Yeah. I thought I’d save you the trouble of having to mull it over with Jack. I moved out.”

  Quinn’s eyes shuttered closed. “Where are you?” she gently asked.

  “New York. I took the red-eye out last night.”

  Quinn’s eyes popped back open. “What? I didn’t hear you leave last night.”

  “I tried to be quiet.”

  “So, why are you in New York?” Quinn already knew the answer. The ex-girlfriend. She had successfully managed to push Lacey back into Dani’s arms. Quinn for the win.

  “I’m tying up loose ends. Renting out my apartment, seeing some friends…my dad…stuff like that.”

  “Oh. I see.”

  “What do you need, Quinn?”

  “Um…” You. Back here with me. “Have you seen Dani?”

  “Yeah, she picked me up.”

  Quinn went outside. She needed room to pace. “How did it go?”

  “What do you mean, how did it go?”

  “I mean…I don’t know what I mean.”

  “She’d love to meet you. Huge fan of yours.”

  Quinn stopped pacing. “Please tell me you’re not taking her back.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s wrong what she did, Lacey.”

  “Since when do you care?”

  Quinn threw a hand in the air. “I care, okay? You know I care about you.”

  “I know you’re afraid of me.”

  Quinn shook her head in confusion. “Whatever. Just remember what she did and how it made you feel.”

  “We all have weak moments.”

  “Weak moments? Is that what you call someone who dumps you the second you lose your show? Is it called a “weak moment” when someone kicks you while you’re down?”

  “That’s a bit dramatic.”

  “I’m a fucking actor! It’s my job to be dramatic!” Quinn shouted.

  Lacey got her coffee from the barista and found a quiet corner. “What do you need, Quinn? I’m kind of busy right now.”

  “Don’t hang up. Look…I feel bad about last night. I know I hurt your feelings. And I know I said you should probably move out, but now that you’re gone, it feels wrong.”

  “Don’t worry. Nothing’s changed. We’re still good as far as the show goes, as well as the other thing – the contract.”

  “What about us?” Quinn asked. “Are we good?”

  “I just told you, nothing’s changed.”

  Quinn started pacing again. “I don’t believe you. I can hear it in your voice. You’re mad.”

  “Quinn, what do you want me to say?”

  “That you’ll move back in. I just panicked for a second, but I’m over it.”

  “Dani just walked in. I have to go.”

  Quinn heard a voice say, “Hello, beautiful.” And then Lacey’s voice. “Hey.” Then, the phone went dead.

  “FUCK!” Quinn picked up her water bottle and threw it as hard as she could, then doubled over in pain. She plopped down on the end of a lounge chair, cradling her arm. She stared blankly as the tears started to fall.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Quinn couldn’t spend another day sulking around her very clean, but very empty house. She’d spent the previous day scrubbing every toilet, every flat surface. Re-positioning every hanger in her closet. It didn’t help. She was still so fucking alone she could hear the house creak. And Lacey was with Dani. And it was all her fault. “Gawwwwd,” she groaned over her cup of coffee.

  Stupid. She was stupid.

  Lacey just wanted to have fun at that bar. Let loose a little. Their lives were hard right now, with the heavy shooting schedule. Why couldn’t Quinn have seen that? Why did she have to turn it into something underhanded, as if Lacey was some big walking ulterior motive?

  She turned on the sound system, cranking it up with Lacey’s playlist. Who puts Mary J. Blige and Taylor Swift on the same playlist? Quinn smiled as “U+Me” filtered through the speakers. She poured herself a cup of coffee and stood at the window overlooking the pool, thinking about the time she’d caught Lacey dancing in the kitchen while she wiped down the counters. Lacey wasn’t embarrassed, because when did Lacey ever get embarrassed? No, she had taken Quinn’s hand and danced with her, twirling her around until they were both dizzy and had to hold onto each other so they didn’t fall over.

  Lacey was sunshine.

  Quinn blinked away her tears. And blinked harder when she saw movement in the guesthouse. She almost dropped her coffee cup when she saw Lacey step out and shuffle toward the main house in her robe and slippers.

  Quinn set her cup down and stood at the table, trying to look casual. She put a hand on her hip. No, that didn’t look casual. She stuffed both hands in her jeans pockets.

  Lacey opened the door and stood there for a second, staring at Quinn. “You look like hell.”

  “So do you.” Quinn furrowed her brow, because Lacey really did look like hell. “When did you…um…”

  Quinn watched Lacey pour herself a cup of coffee and shuffle back outside. Her heart was beating so hard, she covered her chest with her hand. Lacey was home. And Quinn wanted to cry again – tears of joy this time. She took a few breaths and pulled the elastic out of her hair, just in case she really did look like hell. She smoothed her hair down and tied it back up again, then went outside. She knocked on Lacey’s door and poked her head in. “Are you okay?”

  Lacey was already back in bed, sipping on her coffee. “Don’t come too close. I think I’m coming down with something.”

  Quinn ignored the advice. She sat on the bed and checked Lacey’s temperature, resting the back of her hand on her forehead. “You’re burning up.”

  “First class was full, and you know they put all the sick people in economy.” Lacey shivered. “I feel cold. Do you think it could be Ebola? Or bubonic plague?”

  Quinn suppressed a giggle. “Now who’s being dramatic? I’ll be right back.” She stepped outside, smiling from ear to ear. Lacey was back and she was making her usual silly jokes. What a relief.

  A few minutes later, Quinn came back with a box of supplies and Amy’s medical kit. She put a temperature strip on Lacey’s f
orehead. “What symptoms do you have? Headache? Nausea?”

  “Headache, chills, achy muscles,” Lacey said, using the sickliest voice she could conjure up. What do you think it is, nurse?”

  Quinn looked at her watch while she pretended to check Lacey’s pulse. “It’s that time of year. Maybe you caught something on the plane.” She took the stethoscope out of the bag and pushed Lacey’s robe aside, then slid the stethoscope under her t-shirt.

  Lacey looked down at her chest. “Are you trying to feel me up, nurse?”

  Quinn put a finger on her mouth. “Shh…” She listened closely to Lacey’s heartbeat, then took the stethoscope out of her ears and threw it around her neck. “It sounds like bacterial meningitis. You have one, maybe two days to live.”

  “But…I’m…pregnant.”

  Quinn nodded and tried not to laugh out loud. She put her hand on Lacey’s shoulder. “The baby will survive, but you won’t. Who should I call to collect your bastard child?”

  Lacey sat up and grabbed Quinn’s sleeve. “I have no one, Nurse Ratched. No one! Who will take care of my baby?”

  Quinn gave Lacey a pretend slap across the face. “Calm down. You’ll upset the baby. I will take care of your child. It will have a good life with me. I will love it like my own bastard child. Come to think of it, I might even be the father.”

  Lacey grabbed onto Quinn’s shoulders. “Oh, thank you, nurse! I can die content knowing that my bastard child will have both a mother and a father!”

  Quinn pushed Lacey back down onto the bed. “Just relax now, honey. I’ll go get a knife.”

  Lacey grabbed her head and started writhing on the bed. “Ay dios mio!”

  “Adios and sayonara to you too.”

  Lacey covered her mouth to stifle the giggles. Quinn picked up the cup of coffee. “I’ll get you some orange juice. Coffee isn’t what you need right now.”

  “And an extra blanket? I’m freezing.”

  “And something to reduce the fever.” Quinn stood there for a moment. Lacey looked like hell, with her bloodshot eyes, pale skin and chapped lips, but it didn’t matter. Quinn’s heart felt full again. And her big, empty house was no longer empty.