Rock Solid

by Lisa A. Olech

  A waiter passed by with a tray of what looked like mimosas. Emily grabbed two. The room was packed. There had to be close to a hundred women sitting at a dozen round tables. Low vases overflowed with pale peony blooms and bright tulips. Cynthia and her ladies in waiting sat at a table at the head of the room. Along one side stretched a buffet of quiche and croissants, mini muffins, bowls of fresh fruit, pots of coffee and tea, frothy punch, and a tower of cupcakes frosted in perfect “evening blush” pink icing.

  Hanging toward the back of the room, Emily hoped to blend into the wallpaper. She’d drink some fizzy orange juice, swipe a cupcake and sneak out the same way she snuck in.

  “M&M!”

  Damn. So much for sneaking out. “Jeremy, I didn’t expect to see you here. Isn’t this strictly a female-only event?”

  “Not according to Cyn. I think I’m just here to help load up the haul. Did you get a look at all those presents?”

  “I did. Can’t wait to see what you think of mine. Just remember, unplug the toaster.”

  “You bought us a toaster?”

  “No, someone beat me to that.” She stopped another waiter. “Is there any way I can get the champagne without the OJ?” The waiter shook his head. Damn.

  “You look great. Aren’t you hungry? The food is incredible. Why aren’t you sitting with the rest of Cyn’s entourage?”

  “I just got here.”

  “I think there’s a seat up there for you.” He jerked his head toward the bride-to-be.

  “I’m great right here.”

  “Chicken.”

  “Says the man whose fiancée is wearing his balls on her charm bracelet.”

  “Come on. They don’t bite, except for Cyn’s grandmother, Winnie Weatherby. Watch your back. She likes to pinch asses.” Jeremy took her elbow. “The other bridesmaids are looking forward to meeting you.”

  Emily started to argue she was perfectly happy hugging the wall.

  “EMILY!” Cynthia spotted her.

  Damn again! She leaned close to Jeremy. “If you truly value our friendship, you’ll get me something stronger than a mimosa.”

  Jeremy laughed as Emily was swept into a sea of tall brunette beauties. Did he think she was joking?

  Introductions flew. There was no way Em could remember all the names so she made up her own: Buffy, Muffy, Skipper and Fluffy, Sweetums, Gidget, Mimsie, Poopsie, Flopsie, Mopsie, and Babs. They all wore three-inch heels and towered over her. They practically picked her up on their shoulders and dragged her into their fray. Mimsie just had to know where she got her dress. Skipper loved her earrings. Someone asked if her hair was her real color. It was Babs. Em couldn’t have stuck out more had she been painted puce.

  But Cynthia was sweet and gracious. She parted the sea of bridesmaids and set her at the head table with a plate of delicious-looking food and another mimosa. Well, at least Emily would get the daily dose of vitamin C.

  Watching Jeremy and Cynthia unwrap their Everest of gifts, Em couldn’t help the tiny pang of jealousy that plucked at her heart. They were over-the-moon happy. It was contagious to everyone around them. This wasn’t a couple whose wedding guests were secretly placing bets on how long it would last. This was a pair so obviously in love, you could picture their great grandchildren playing in their yard—the one with the swimming pool.

  By the time the last gift was opened and the tower of cupcakes toppled, Emily had lost track of just how many drinks had magically appeared in front of her. Thank goodness she wasn’t part of the three-inch heel gang. She’d never have been able to walk across the room.

  “Give me your keys.” Jeremy slid into the seat beside her.

  “I don’t have keys. The cutie valet ha-has my keys.” She bumped shoulders with him. “I think he w-wants me. He called me miss.”

  “Oh, jeez, you’re plastered.” He moved her plate. It was still full of food she hadn’t touched. “Didn’t you eat anything?”

  “I had a cupcake.” She shook her finger at one of his two faces. “It’s all your fault.”

  “Is it?”

  “Yes. How come…” She paused. She hadn’t meant to pause. What was she saying? Oh, yes, she remembered. She had to start over. “Yes. How come you made me love you when I can’t love you anymore?”

  “Okay, why don’t we get you some coffee and a little fresh air?”

  “Why? I don’t understand.” She lowered her voice, sharing a secret. “I love him too, but I can’t love him either, you know?” She shook her head. Her brain sloshed in her skull. “I’m such an idiot. I shoved my hand down the man’s pants!” Did she say that as loud as it sounded?

  Several guest turned to stare.

  She whispered again, “What was he supposed to do?”

  “Who’s pants? Em, I have no idea what you’re talking about. Let me get you home.”

  “I can’t go home. Trixie will know I’m naked.”

  “I guarantee you’ll still be dressed when I get you there.” He slipped an arm through her elbow and helped her stand. “You never could hold your liquor. How much did you drink?”

  “Whoa, not so fast, cowboy.” She leaned into him. “I need to say good-bye to your beautiful bride and thank her for a love-lovely time.”

  “I’ll tell her.”

  “Will you?” Emily put her chin on his arm and looked into his pretty eyes. “You’re so nice. She’s nice too. I want to hate her, you know, because I can’t love you anymore, but I can’t, she’s too damn…” She flipped her hand back and forth. What was another word for nice? She couldn’t think of one. Wait, “good” was like nice. “She’s too damn good! And pretty. And sweet. She’s very sweet.” How had they gotten outside?

  Jeremy poured her into the passenger seat of his pickup and buckled her in. She rolled down the window and rested her head on the shoulder strap of her seat belt. “I think I drank too much orange juice.” She closed her eyes and took great gulps of air.

  “I think you’re right.” He pulled the truck onto the main road heading back into Stoddard.

  “It was a nice shower.”

  “Having never been to one before, I’ll take your word for it.”

  “It was. You got a ton of beautiful things. Great cupcakes.” The air felt good rushing past her cheeks. Her head was starting to clear.

  It was quiet in the truck as they rode past the golf course. Em closed her eyes. Jeremy’s voice started her. “I’ll tell Cynthia this was a bad idea.”

  “What? What’s a bad idea? The cupcakes?”

  He glanced in her direction. “No, you. We forced you into agreeing to be in the wedding, and it’s obvious you’re having a problem with it.”

  “No. Wait. What?”

  Jeremy pulled the truck over to the side of the road and parked. “You never drink like this, Em. Are you going to sit there and tell me you’re fine with this? And all that ‘you love me but can’t love me’ stuff? What’s that about?”

  “Whoa.” She sat up. “Hold on.”

  “I know you, Em. I swear I can read your mind. I understand you still love me. I still love you too, I always will, but I’m not in love with you. If you have those kinds of feelings for me, it would be cruel to make you be a part of the wedding. I thought you were over me.”

  All she could do was gape at him. “You know those moments when you’re really really drunk and something happens to sober you up in one hell of a hurry. This is one of those times.” She punched him. “Jack ass!”

  “Ow!” He grabbed his arm. “Why’d you hit me?”

  “‘Cause you’re being stupid.”

  “I’m trying to be nice.”

  “Don’t!”

  “Why are you yelling?”

  “’Cause you’re still being stupid.”

  “Aaaahh!” He slapped the steering wheel. “What the hell is going on with you? Tell me, ’cause I’m obviously too dumb to figure it out.”

  She glanced at him sideways and he glared at her.

  “And I swear, if
you say ‘nothing,’ I’m kicking your mimosa-ed ass out of this truck and you can walk home.”

  Emily unbuckled her seat belt. Putting her face in her hands, she doubled over. “Aaaahh!” She mumbled into her hands. “I can’t talk to you about this.”

  “That’s bullshit. We can talk about anything.”

  Images of Max filtered through her head. Running her fingertips through the crisp, black hair on his chiseled chest. Feeling the rasp of his beard against her chin. The rush of warm breath against the side of her neck. The stunning picture he made in his tuxedo and the way he stared at her across the studio. Him leaving with Beverly, and her heart crumbling in her chest. Seeing their picture in this morning’s newspaper bothered her more than she ever imagined.

  “Not this.” She lifted her head. “Please don’t push it, okay? And please, get it out of your head I’m upset about being in this wedding because I still have ‘those’ kinds of feelings for you. I don’t. I love you. I think you and Cynthia are going to be blissfully happy, and I’m thrilled about that. I sat there and watched you both today. What you two have is the real deal. Yes, I’m a tiny bit jealous, but not of her. Of what you have, you idiot. I’d give my right arm for a guy to look at me the way you look at her.” She shot him a glare. “And if you say ‘don’t worry, you’ll find someone too,’ I’ll kick my own mimosa-ed ass out of this damn truck and walk home.”

  She rubbed her forehead. “I’m sorry I drank too much. I was nervous about meeting everyone. I was way out of my element there. I don’t exactly fit in with Cynthia’s friends.”

  “You fit in fine.”

  Em shook her head. “They’re all so tall and gorgeous.” Just like Beverly Lavender.

  “You’re twice the woman they are, and I think you’re beautiful.”

  “Dammit, Jeremy! Don’t you dare make me cry. I can’t be that drunken crying girl that’s in every ladies’ room every Saturday night in every bar I’ve ever been in.” She bit the inside of her lip and sighed. “Thank you for thinking I’m beautiful. I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

  “And punched me.”

  “I’m not sorry about that.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Monday morning Maximo was waiting for Dante to arrive. He’d spent the past two days combing over his contract with Lavender Blue Art Agency, feeling more and more trapped. His only distraction had been the hours spent in the studio.

  Working on Emily’s figure, however, he turned that anger and frustration on himself. As a result, the piece suffered. He had to step away from the work. Try as he might to hold onto the images of the pose in his mind, he couldn’t erase the rest. His body still reacted to the memory of her in his arms. The heat. The passion. Even now the ache in his pants made him want to scream. But it was the look of hurt and disbelief on her face when he told her to leave that continued to haunt him.

  Max was sitting behind Dante’s desk reading through the impenetrable contract one more time, when Dante arrived.

  He came up short at the sight of him. “Maximo.”

  “Get me out of this.” Max held up the crushed contract in a fist.

  “What the hell happened this weekend?” Dante raised a newspaper.

  Max narrowed his eyes. “What’s that?”

  “You haven’t seen it? You’re all over the society page.” Dante opened the paper and held it for him to see. “You held a press conference? And it says here you’re booked into a show?”

  “There will be no show. Find me a way out.” Max threw the crushed pages.

  “There’s a termination clause. I read it.”

  “Oh, there’s one. Page six. Says, mutually agreed. She won’t agree. Told me she’d sue me for everything I’m worth if I tried. I can’t work with her. I won’t.”

  “What?” Dante sifted through the crush of pages and read. The frown on his face turned into a scowl. “I must have read this too fast. The wording is very misleading.”

  “Exactly.”

  “She won’t get away with this. I have a lawyer who owes me a favor.” Dante scanned another page. “Let me see if there’s anything we can do.”

  A knock on the door interrupted them. Crystal LeMar poked her head in. “Sorry to bother you.” She handed Dante a plaster penis. “Baskins has struck again.”

  ****

  “It was loose?” Emily chewed at her thumbnail.

  “I highly doubt that.” Dante rubbed a hand over his eyes.

  Emily sat in his office. The detached penis lay on the desk. “I can fix it and would have if I had my drill. It was too big to glue. It needs pegged reinforcement. I mean, look at the size of it.”

  Dante groaned. “That’s not the point, Ms. Baskins. The point is Crystal LeMar is extremely unhappy. Do you have any idea what that’s like?”

  “Sadly, I do.”

  “And for some reason I fail to comprehend, Maximo is adamant about me not firing you. Here I sit, stuck in the middle, with a damn penis on my desk.” He flicked at the white phallus with the end of his pen like it might bite him.

  Emily reached over and grabbed the offending member. “I can fix it. Don’t you worry. I’ll handle Crystal. She loves me deep down. She just doesn’t know it.”

  “Ms. Baskins…”

  “I know this looks bad, but this is a piece of cake. You’ll see. I’ll have this little guy back where he belongs before lunch. Even his urologist will never know it was missing.” She used the penis to emphasize her words.

  “Don’t point that thing at me, please.”

  “Oh, sorry.” She slipped it under her arm.

  “Fine, fine. Whatever. Just fix it.” He flipped his hand sweeping her out of his office. “Oh, and stop by and speak to Vega on your way to casting.”

  “W-what? Why?”

  “Maybe it’s to name you intern of the month.”

  ****

  Emily stood at the opening to Maximo’s space. She stared at the penis in her hand. Isn’t this why I left here last time? She held her breath and stepped inside.

  Maximo looked like the first time she met him with a dust cloth tied to his head, wearing his long leather apron. Stunning. He was busy sharpening the tip of a chisel. Em let out the breath she was holding.

  His eyes met hers. “Emily.”

  The way his lips caressed her name made her want to weep. Her nerves caused her to fiddle with her hands. Maximo’s gaze lowered. The corner of his mouth lifted. Heat blazed into her cheeks as she realized she was fumbling with the plaster cock. Her ears got hot.

  She whipped it behind her back and studied the dusty toes of his boots. “You wanted to speak to me?”

  “Si.”

  “Dante said you won’t let him fire me.”

  “Si.”

  “Why?”

  “I need you.”

  Emily’s eyes shot to his. Dust danced in a shaft of light that fell behind him. “I don’t understand. I thought—”

  “We are not finished.” He twisted the chisel in his hand.

  Emily imagined it tangling and twirling in her heart.

  “The work, she is incompiuto, incomplete.”

  Em opened her mouth to speak, but she had no words. Maximo turned away from her to replace his tool in its proper space. The wall of his back barred her from any emotions she might have read on his face.

  He picked up the next chisel in the row. “You will return tonight.”

  It wasn’t a question. It wasn’t an explanation. It wasn’t an apology. He didn’t turn back to her. Her fingers gripped the penis so hard her hand ached. She couldn’t do this anymore. He couldn’t issue orders and expect her to…to what? Act like nothing had happened between them? Return to baring her body and pretend she had thought of anything else but his lips on hers since he sent her away? No, she had more pride than that. No. This was cruel. She should tell him no. Demand an explanation.

  The breadth of his shoulders looked like a stone wall. If she hurled the penis at him, it would shatter into dust. What coul
d she do? Quit? Walk away from everything? Walk away from him?

  No.

  “Seven o’clock.”

  The words struck her like a cold fist. He was the devil. If he had a heart, it was lifeless, cold and hard like the plaster in her hands, and yet he had captured hers. Devil or not there was no escaping the rush of feelings she had whenever she was near him. She’d be back. At seven, sharp.

  Entering the casting room, Crystal was on her as soon as she walked in. “Two. Baskins, that’s two strikes. I’ve never seen an intern crash and burn quite so fast. You should be proud.”

  Emily maneuvered past the Great Wall of Crystal. “I can fix it.” She set the penis to one side and slipped on the dust mask. Em grabbed her goggles. This wasn’t like reattaching the pinkie, however. Given the size of the appendage in question, Emily would need to reinforce the repair with a peg, which meant drilling a pilot hole in each piece. She grabbed a power drill. “Don’t worry, Fred won’t feel a thing.”

  Crystal stood shaking her head studying the torso. “You must be loads of fun on a date. Maybe we should start a eunuch support group?”

  Ignoring Crystal’s jibes, she crouched in front of the statue and started to drill a loud, dusty hole in the figure’s crotch. The drill bit screeched through the plaster. Off to the right, two men from the mixing team visibly winced and made protective grabs for their privates.

  Crystal snorted behind her. “I’m almost gonna miss you when you’re gone.”

  While the repair to Fred was setting, Emily escaped the barrage of penis jokes and new nicknames Crystal was delighting in trying out. “Cock-block” Baskins seemed to be a favorite among her and rest of the crew, or C.B. for short. It was going to be a special day.

  She took out her frustration on twenty-five pounds of new clay that needed to be wedged and prepped in her space. Kneading the clay like bread dough, she was able to block out everything else. The aroma of moist clay filled her senses as it softened and warmed beneath her hands. Closing her eyes, the chore was almost hypnotic. As her hands worked each section of clay, her mind focused on another pair of hands.